UIBRARY/9/ 


in 


j\  i 


.vins.w 


<$UIBRARY0,c 


C\\\E  UNIVER51//, 


ANCFLfj> 


Illustrated  Cabinet  edition 


Hbe  Stones  of  Venice  #  & 
foundations  f  #  by  ^obn  Rushin 

In  Cbree  Volumes    &    &    &    Volume  I. 


Boston  fi  &  &  &  & 
Dana  6stes  &  Company 
&  &  &  &  publishers 


Architecture  ffl  -: 
Urban  Planning 
Library 


nil 

VSR2 

PEEFAOE. 


-x    In  the  course  of  arranging  the  following  essay,  I  put  many 

-^things  aside  in.  my  thoughts  to  be  said  in  the  Preface,  things 

-which  I  shall  now  put  aside  altogether,  and  pass  by ;  for  when 

a  book  has  been  advertised  a  year  and  a  half,  it  seems  best  to 

present  it  with  as  little  preface  as  possible. 

Thus  much,  however,  it  is  necessary  for  the  reader  to  knoTC, 
that,  when  I  planned  the  work,  I  had  materials  by  me,  col- 
lected at  different  times  of  sojourn  in  Venice  during  the  last 
seventeen  years,  which  it  seemed  to  me  might  be  arranged 
with  little  difficulty,  and  which  I  believe  to  be  of  value  as 
illustrating  the  history  of  Southern  Gothic.  Kequiring,  how- 
ever, some  clearer  assurance  respecting  certain  points  of 
chronology,  I  went  to  Venice  finally  in  the  Autumn  of  1849, 
not  doubting  but  that  the  dates  of  the  principal  edifices  of 
the  ancient  city  were  either  ascertained,  or  ascertainable  with- 
out extraordinary  research.  To  my  consternation,  I  found 
that  the  Venetian  antiquaries  were  not  agreed  within  a  cen- 
tury as  to  the  date  of  the  building  of  the  fagades  of  the  Ducal 
Palace,  and  that  nothing  was  known  of  any  other  civil  edifice 
of  the  early  city,  except  that  at  some  time  or  other  it  had  been 
fitted  up  for  somebody's  reception,  and  been  thereupon  fresh 
painted.  Every  date  in  question  was  determinable  only  by 
internal  evidence,  and  it  became  necessary  for  me  to  examine 
not  only  every  one  of  the  older  palaces,  stone  by  stone,  but 
every  fragment  throughout  the  city  which  afforded  any  clue 
to  the  formation  of  its  styles.  This  I  did  as  well  as  I  could, 
and  I  believe  there  will  be  found,  in  the  following  pages,  the 
only  existing  account  of  the  details  of  early  Venetian  architect- 
ure on  which  dependence  can  be  placed,  as  far  as  it  goes.  I 


i  PREFACE. 

Jo  not  care  to  point  out  the  deficiencies  of  other  works  on  this 
subject ;  the  reader  will  find,  if  he  examines  them,  either  that 
the  buildings  to  which  I  shall  specially  direct  his  attention 
have  been  hitherto  undescribed,  or  else  that  there  are  great 
discrepancies  between  previous  descriptions  and  mine  :  for 
which  discrepancies  I  may  be  permitted  to  give  this  single  and 
sufficient  reason,  that  my  account  of  every  building  is  based 
on  persqpal  examination  and  measurement  of  it,  and  that  my 
taking  the  pains  so  to  examine  what  I  had  to  describe,  was  a 
subject  of  grave  surprise  to  my  Italian  friends.  The  work  of 
the  Marchese  Selvatico  is,  however,  to  be  distinguished  with 
respect ;  it  is  clear  in  arrangement,  and  full  of  useful,  though 
vague,  information ;  and  I  have  found  cause  to  adopt,  in  great 
measure,  its  views  of  the  chronological  succession  of  the 
edifices  of  Venice.  I  shall  have  cause  hereafter  to  quarrel  with 
it  on  other  grounds,  but  not  without  expression  of  gratitude 
for  the  assistance  it  has  given  me.  Fontana's  "  Fabbriche  di 
Venecia  "  is  also  historically  valuable,  but  does  not  attempt  to 
give  architectural  detail.  Cicognara,  as  is  now  generally 
known,  is  so  inaccurate  as  hardly  to  deserve  mention. 

Indeed,  it  is  not  easy  to  be  accurate  in  an  account  of  any- 
thing, however  simple.  Zoologists  often  disagree  in  their  de- 
scriptions of  the  curve  of  a  shell,  or  the  plumage  of  a  bird, 
though  they  may  lay  their  specimen  on  the  table,  and  ex- 
amine it  at  their  leisure ;  how  much  greater  becomes  the  like- 
lihood of  error  in  the  description  of  things  which  must  be  in 
many  parts  observed  from  a  distance,  or  under  unfavorable 
circumstances  of  light  and  shade  ;  and  of  which  many  of  the 
distinctive  features  have  been  worn  away  by  time.  I  believe 
few  people  have  any  idea  of  the  cost  of  truth  in  these  things; 
of  the  expenditure  of  time  necessary  to  make  sure  of  the  sim- 
plest facts,  and  of  the  strange  way  in  which  separate  obser- 
vations will  sometimes  falsify  each  other,  incapable  of  recon- 
cilement, owing  to  some  imperceptible  inadvertency.  I  am 
ashamed  of  the  number  of  times  in  which  I  have  had  to  say, 
in  the  following  pages,  "I  am  not  sure, "and  I  claim  for  them 
no  authority,  as  if  they  were  thoroughly  sifted  from  error, 


PREFACE.  9 

tr 

even  in  what  they  more  confidently  state.  Only,  as  far  as  my 
J:ime,  and  strength,  and  mind  served  me,  I  have  endeavored, 
-own  to  the  smallest  matters,  to  ascertain  and  speak  the  truth. 

Nor  was  the  subject  without  many  and  most  discouraging 
difficulties,  peculiar  to  itself.  As  far  as  my  inquiries  have  ex- 
tended, there  is  not  a  building  in  Venice,  raised  prior  to  the 
sixteenth  century,  which  has  not  sustained  essential  change  in 
one  or  more  of  its  most  important  features.  By  far  the 
greater  number  present  examples  of  three  or  four  different 
styles,  it  may  be  successive,  it  may  be  accidentally  associated  ; 
and,  in  many  instances,  the  restorations  or  additions  have 
gradually  replaced  the  entire  structure  of  the  ancient  fabric, 
of  which  nothing  but  the  name  remains,  together  with  a  kind 
of  identity,  exhibited  in  the  anomalous  association  of  the 
modernized  portions :  the  Will  of  the  old  building  asserted 
through  them  all,  stubbornly,  though  vainly,  expressive; 
superseded  by  codicils,  and  falsified  by  misinterpretation ;  yet 
animating  what  would  otherwise  be  a  mere  group  of  fantastic 
jnasque,  as  embarrassing  to  the  antiquary,  as  to  the  miner- 
alogist, the  epigene  crystal,  formed  by  materials  of  one  sub- 
stance modelled  on  the  perished  crystals  of  another.  The 
church  of  St.  Mark's  itself,  harmonious  as  its  structure  may 
at  first  sight  appear,  is  an  epitome  of  the  changes  of  Venetian 
architecture  from  the  tenth  to  the  .nineteenth  century.  Its 
crypt,  and  the  line  of  low  arches  which  support  the  screen, 
are  apparently  the  earliest  portions ;  the  lower  stories  of  the 
main  fabric  are  of  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries,  with 
later  Gothic  interpolations  ;  the  pinnacles  are  of  the  earliest 
fully  developed  Venetian  Gothic  (fourteenth  century) ;  but 
one  of  them,  that  on  the  projection  of  the  eastern  extremity 
of  the  Piazzetta  de  Leoni,  is  of  far  finer,  and  probably  earlier 
workmanship  than  all  the  rest.  The  southern  range  of 
pinnacles  is  again  inferior  to  the  northern  and  western,  and 
visibly  of  later  date.  Then  the  screen,  which  most  writers 
have  described  as  part  of  the  original  fabric,  bears  its  date 
inscribed  on  its  architrave,  1394,  and  with  it  are  associated  a 
multitude  of  small  screens,  balustrades,  decorations  of  the  in- 
terior building,  and  probably  the  rose  window  of  the  south 

Stones  of  Venice — VoL  L— l 


«  PREFACE, 

f 

transept  Then  come  the  interpolated  traceries  of  the  front 
and  sides  ;  then  the  crocketings  of  the  upper  arches,  extrava- 
gances of  the  incipient  Renaissance :  and,  finally,  the  figures 
which  carry  the  water-spouts  on  the  north  side — utterly 
barbarous  seventeenth  or  eighteenth  century  work — connect 
the  whole  with  the  plastered  restorations  of  the  year  1844 
and  1845.  Most  of  the  palaces  in  Venice  have  sustained  in- 
terpolations hardly  less  numerous  ;  and  those  of  the  Ducal 
Palace  are  so  intricate,  that  a  year's  labor  would  probably  be 
insufficient  altogether  to  disentangle  and  define  them.  I 
therefore  gave  up  all  thoughts  of  obtaining  a  perfectly  clear 
chronological  view  of  the  early  architecture  ;  but  the  dates 
necessary  to  the  main  purposes  of  the  book  the  reader  will 
find  well  established ;  and  of  the  evidence  brought  forward 
for  those  of  less  importance,  he  is  himself  to  judge.  Doubtful 
estimates  are  never  made  grounds  of  argument ;  and  the  ac- 
curacy of  the  account  of  the  buildings  themselves,  for  which 
alone  I  pledge  myself,  is  of  course  entirely  independent  of 
them. 

In  like  manner,  as  the  statements  briefly  made  in  the  chap- 
ters on  construction  involve  questions  so  difficult  and  so  gen- 
eral, that  I  cannot  hope  that  every  expression  referring  to 
them  will  be  found  free  from  error :  and  as  the  conclusions 
to  which  I  have  endeavored  to  lead  the  reader  are  thrown  into 
a  lorm  the  validity  of  which  depends  on  that  of  each  succes- 
sive step,  it  might  be  argued,  if  fallacy  or  weakness  could  be 
detected  in  one  of  them,  that  all  the  subsequent  reasoning! 
were  valueless.  The  reader  may  be  assured,  however,  that  it 
is  not  so  ;  the  method  of  proof  used  in  the  following  essay 
being  only  one  out  of  many  which  were  in  my  choice,  adopted 
because  it  seemed  to  me  the  shortest  and  simplest,  not  as  be- 
ing the  strongest.  In  many  cases,  the  conclusions  are  those 
which  men  of  quick  feeling  would  arrive  at  instinctively  ;  and 
I  then  sought  to  discover  the  reasons  of  what  so  strongly 
recommended  itself  as  truth.  Though  these  reasons  could 
every  one  of  them,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  book, 
be  proved  insufficient,  the  truth  of  its  conclusions  would  re- 
main the  same.  I  should  only  regret  that  I  had  dishonored 


PREP  AC X.  1 

them  by  an  ill-grounded  defence  ;  and  endeavor  to  repau  my 
error  by  a  better  one. 

I  have  not,  however,  written  carelessly  ;  nor  should  I  in 
any  wise  have  expressed  doubt  of  the  security  of  the  follow* 
ing  argument,  but  that  it  is  physically  impossible  for  me,  be- 
ing engaged  quite  as  much  with  mountains,  and  clouds,  and 
trees,  and  criticism  of  painting,  as  with  architecture,  to  verify, 
as  I  should  desire,  the  expression  of  every  sentence  bearing 
upon  empirical  and  technical  matters.  Life  is  not  long 
enough  ;  nor  does  a  day  pass  by  without  causing  me  to  feel 
more  bitterly  the  impossibility  of  carrying  out  to  the  extent 
which  I  should  desire,  the  separate  studies  which  general 
criticism  continually  forces  me  to  undertake.  I  can  only  as- 
sure the  reader,  that  he  will  find  the  certainty  of  every  state- 
ment I  permit  myself  to  make,  increase  with  its  importance ; 
and  that,  for  the  security  of  the  final  conclusions  of  the  fol« 
lowing  essay,  as  well  as  for  the  resolute  veracity  of  its  account 
of  whatever  facts  have  come  under  my  own  immediate  cogni- 
zance, I  will  pledge  myself  to  the  uttermost 

It  was  necessary,  to  the  accomplishment  of  the  purpose  of 
the  work  (of  which  account  is  given  in  the  First  Chapter),  that 
I  should  establish  some  canons  of  judgment,  which  the  gen- 
eral reader  should  thoroughly  understand,  and,  if  it  pleased 
him,  accept,  before  we  took  cognizance,  together,  of  any 
architecture  whatsoever.  It  has  taken  me  more  time  and 
trouble  to  do  this  than  I  expected  ;  but,  if  I  have  succeeded, 
the  thing  done  will  be  of  use  for  many  other  purposes  than 
that  to  which  it  is  now  put.  The  establishment  of  these 
canons,  which  I  have  called  "  the  Foundations,"  and  some  ac- 
count of  the  connection  of  Venetian  architecture  with  that  of 
the  rest  of  Europe,  have  filled  the  present  volume.  The 
second  will,  I  hope,  contain  all  I  have  to  say  about  Venice 
itself. 

It  was  of  course  inexpedient  to  reduce  drawings  of  crowded 
details  to  the  size  of  an  octavo  volume, — I  do  not  say  impossi- 
ble, but  inexpedient ;  requiring  infinite  pains  on  the  part  of 
the  engraver,  with  no  result  except  farther  pains  to  the  be- 
holder. And  act  on  ike  other  hand,  folio  books  are  not  eaqy 


8  PRBFAOS. 

leading,  I  determined  to  separate  the  text  and  the  ^reduci- 
ble plates.  I  have  given,  with  the  principal  text,  all  the  illus- 
trations absolutely  necessary  to  the  understanding  of  it,  and, 
In  the  detached  work,  such  additional  text  as  has  special  refer- 
ence to  the  larger  illustrations. 

A  considerable  number  of  these  larger  plates  were  at  first 
intended  to  be  executed  in  tinted  lithography ;  but,  finding 
the  result  unsatisfactory,  I  have  determined  to  prepare  the 
principal  subjects  for  mezzotinting, — a  change  of  method  re- 
quiring two  new  drawings  to  be  made  of  every  subject ;  one 
a  carefully  penned  outline  for  the  etcher,  and  then  a  finished 
drawing  upon  the  etching.  This  work  does  not  proceed 
fast,  while  I  am  also  occupied  with  the  completion  of  the 
text ;  but  the  numbers  of  it  will  appear  as  fast  as  I  can  pre- 
pare them. 

For  the  illustrations  of  the  body  of  the  work  itself,  I  have 
used  any  kind  of  engraving  which  seemed  suited  to  the  sub- 
jects— line  and  mezzotint,  on  steel,  with  mixed  lithographs 
and  woodcuts,  at  considerable  loss  of  uniformity  in  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  volume,  but,  I  hope,  with  advantage,  in  ren- 
dering the  character  of  the  architecture  it  describes.  And 
both  in  the  plates  and  the  text  I  have  aimed  chiefly  at  clear 
intelligibility  ;  that  any  one,  however  little  versed  in  the  sub- 
ject, might  be  able  to  take  up  the  book,  and  understand  what 
it  meant  forthwith.  I  have  utterly  failed  of  my  purpose,  if  I 
have  not  made  all  the  essential  parts  of  the  essay  intelligible 
to  the  least  learned,  and  easy  to  the  most  desultory  readers, 
who  are  likely  to  take  interest  in  the  matter  at  all.  There 
are  few  passages  which  even  require  so  much  as  an  acquaint- 
ance with  the  elements  of  Euclid,  and  these  may  be  missed, 
without  harm  to  the  sense  of  the  rest,  by  every  reader  to 
whom  they  may  appear  mysterious  ;  and  the  architectural 
terms  necessarily  employed  (which  are  very  few)  are  ex- 
plained as  they  occur,  or  in  a  note ;  so  that,  though  I  may 
often  be  found  trite  or  tedious,  I  trust  that  I  shall  not  be  ob- 
scure. I  am  especially  anxious  to  rid  this  essay  of  ambiguity, 
because  I  want  to  gain  the  ear  of  all  kinds  of  persons.  Everj 
man  has,  at  Home  time  of  his  life,  personal  interest  in  arehi 


PREFACE.  9 

lecture.  He  has  influence  on  the  design  of  some  public 
building  ;  or  he  has  to  buy,  or  build,  or  alter  his  own  house. 
It  signifies  less  whether  the  knowledge  of  other  arts  be  gen. 
eral  or  not ;  men  may  live  without  buying  pictures  or  statues : 
but,  in  architecture,  all  must  in  some  way  commit  themselves ; 
they  must  do  mischief,  and  waste  their  money,  if  they  do  not 
know  how  to  turn  it  to  account.  Churches,  and  shops,  and 
warehouses,  and  cottages,  and  small  row,  and  place,  and  ter- 
race houses,  must  be  built,  and  lived  in,  however  joyless  or 
inconvenient.  And  it  is  assuredly  intended  that  all  of  us 
should  have  knowledge,  and  act  upon  our  knowledge,  in 
matters  with  which  we  are  daily  concerned,  and  not  to  be  left 
to  the  caprice  of  architects  or  mercy  of  contractors.  There 
is  not,  indeed,  anything  in  the  following  essay  bearing  on 
the  special  forms  and  needs  of  modern  buildings ;  but 
the  principles  it  inculcates  are  universal ;  and  they  are  il- 
lustrated from  the  remains  of  a  city  which  should  surely 
be  interesting  to  the  men  of  London,  as  affording  the 
richest  existing  examples  of  architecture  raised  by  a  mercan- 
tile community,  for  civil  uses,  and  domestic  magnificence. 
DENKAHK  Hn.l^  February,  1851. 


CONTENTS. 


PREFACE, 


CHAPTER  L 
The  Quarry, , .        .*,        »        .     15 

CHAPTER  IL 
The  Virtues  of  Architecture,          .......        48 

CHAPTER  m. 
The  Six  Divisions  of  Architecture,   ...»,..     69 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Wall  Base, .        ,        68 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Wall  Veil, 68 

CHAPTER  VL 
The  Wall  Cornice .        71 

CHAPTER  TIL 
The  Pier  Base, 80 

CHAPTER  VUL 
The  Shaft, ,...93 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Capital,     .        „        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        ,118 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  Arch  Llu&,    .,.....„„  196 


11  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
The  Arch  Masonry,  .........  187 

CHAPTER  XIL 
The  Arch  Load,    .        .        ......  .       148 

CHAPTER  TIM. 
The  Roof,         .  ...  .....  18i 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Roof  Cornice,         .........      188 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Buttress,    ...........  100 

CHAPTER  XVL 
Form  of  Aperture,         .........      ITS 

CHAPTER  XVH. 
Filling  of  Aperture,          .......        .  185 

CHAPTER  XVIH. 
Protection  of  Aperture,          .....        .        .  196 


CHAPTER 
Buperimposition,  .....        ....  300 

CHAPTER  XX. 
The  Material  of  Ornament,    .......        .      fill 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
Treatment  of  Ornament,  ........  388 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
The  Angle,    .  .......        •  1M7 


CHAPTER   XXIIL 
The  Edge  and  Fillet,        .........  264 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
TtM  Roll  and  Recess,     .......  873 


CONTENTS.  II 

NM 
CHAPTER  XXV. 

rb»  Base, 977 

CHAPTER  XXVL 
The  Wall  Veil  and  Shaft, „      889 

CHAPTER  XXVIL 
The  Cornice  and  Capital,          .        .        .        .        .        . .       .  399 

CHAPTER  XXVm. 

The  Archi volt  and  Aperture, •         .      8&6 

CHAPTER  XXTX. 
The  Roof, .,384 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
Uh«  Vestibule 341 


APPENDIX. 


1    Foundation  of  Venice, 801 

2.  Power  of  the  Doges, 852 

3.  Serrar  del  Consiglio, 853 

4.  S.  Pietro  di  Castello, 853 

5.  Papal  Power  in  Venice, 354 

6.  Renaissance  Ornaments, 863 

7.  Varieties  of  the  Orders, 863 

8.  The  Northern  Energy, 864 

9.  Wooden  Churches  of  the  North,          .         .         ...         .874 

10.  Church  of  Alexandria,  875 

11.  Renaissance  Landscape, 875 

12.  Romanist  Modern  Art, 877 

13.  Mr.  Fergusson's  System, 888 

14.  Divisions  of  Humanity,  .......      888 


14  COtfT&WJS. 

Men 

15.  Instinctive  Judgments,      ,„.,«•        «       *  894 
Id.  Strength  ot  fehaits,          .«••»*»•      897 

17.  Answer  to  Mr.  Garbett,      ...,.«..  898 

18.  Early  English  Capitals,  ..,.,..«      407 

19.  Tombs  near  St.  Anastasw,  •*»••»/  408 

20.  Shafts  of  Ducal  Palace,  .».,.,,  40S 

21.  Ancient  Representations  of  Water,     .%»»•->  412 

22.  Arabian  Ornamentation,         .»••*»•      425 
$3.  Varieties  of  Chamfer,         ...»«•»»  486 
44    Renaissance  Bases,          .        .        •        a        »       •        •        •      427 
25.  Eomauiat  Decoration  af  liaees,  .        e       c       *        *       %        «  •  -•  • 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

STONES  OF  VENICE,  VOLUME  ONE. 


PLATE  PAGE 

1.  Wall-veil  Decoration.     C»'  Trerisan,  Ca'  Dario,         .        .        -..  26 

2.  Plans  of  Piers, 108 

?.  Arch  Masonry, r.  138 

4.  Arch  Masonry,        .                  140 

5.  Arch  Masonry.     Broletto  of  Como,    ......  146 

6.  Types  of  Towers, 206 

7.  Abstract  Lines 222 

8.  Decorations  by  Disks.     Palazzo  Dei  Badoari  Partecipazzi,      .  240 

9.  Edge  Decoration, 264 

10.  Profile  of  Bases, 280 

11.  Plans  of  Bases, 282 

12.  Decoration  of  Bases, 288 

18.  Wall-veil  Decoration, i  290 

14.  Spandril  Decoration, 294 

15.  Cornice  Profiles, 300 

16.  Cornice  Decoration, 304 

17.  Capitals.     Concave  Group, 816 

18.  Capitals.    Convex 320 

19.  Archivolt  Decoration  at  Verona, e  326 

20.  Wall-veil  Decoration.     Ca'  Treviaan, 362 

21.  Wall- veil  Decoration.                                                                .  368 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1  •*M1 

1.  Roofs, 

2.  Wall, 67 

B.  Lines  on  Walls,      .  72 

4.  Wall  Cornices, 78 

5.  Wall  Cornices, c  75 

6.  Wall  Cornices, 78 

7.  Wall  Cornices, TO 

8.  Wall  Cornices, 7S 

9.  Wall  Plan, 8J 

10.  Pillars 84 

11.  Pillars, 84 

12.  Pillars  and  Bases, 87 

13.  Shaft  in  Rough, »4 

14.  Shaft  Plans, 100 

15.  Shaft  Plans, 101 

16.  Shaft  Plans, 102 

17.  Shaft  Plans, 109 

18.  Shaft  Plans, 109 

19.  Capitals, 118 

20.  Abacas, 115 

21.  Capitals, 116 

22.  Capitals  Truncated,    .        .         .         , 117 

23.  Capitals, 118 

24.  Capitals, .120 

25.  Capitals, 121 

28.  Capitals, 121 

27.  Venetian  Windows, 124 

28.  Part  of  Church  Santa  Fosoa, 125 

29.  Arch  Lines 129 

80.  Arch  Lines, .         .  188 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

n»mm  *"• 

31.  Aroh  Lines, 184 

82.  Horseshoe   \rch, 186 

33.  Aroh  Lines,    ..•-•• 186 

34.  Side  Arch, 148 

35.  Aroh  Loads, 149 

36.  Arch  Front, 150 

37.  Gabled  Roof, 154 

38.  Bracket, 163 

39.  Stone  or  Timber  Bracket, 164 

40.  Brick  Bracket, 165 

41.  Renaissance  Bracket, 165 

42.  Southern  Apse, 174 

43.  Aperture  Plan, 178 

44.  Window  Ovals,  .        •        •       •        • 183 

45.  Window  Bars, 187 

46.  Window  Bars, 193 

47.  Window  Bars 194 

48.  Door  Protections, 197 

49.  Door  Protections,  Fiesola, 197 

50.  Door  Protections,  Plans, 198 

51.  Angle  Plan, »        •       v*     •  ^^ 

52.  Angle  Mouldings,  Ornamental,          ••••••  260 

53.  Angle  Mouldings,  Ornamental 261 

54.  Angle  Mouldings,  Ornamental,          ......  262 

55.  Angle  Mouldings,  Ornamental,      ...•••  263 

56.  Dog  Tooth  Edge, 868 

57.  Byzantine  Stilted  Arches, 869 

58.  Curved  Aroh  Armor, 870 

59.  Lower  Roll,  , '  888 

60.  Base  Roll,  •        t     .'  t  '.'*/*• ** 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


61.  Spandril  Space, 298 

62.  Shaft  from  St.  Zeno, 298 

68.  Cornice  Plans, 312 

64.  Cornice  Plans,    ...».»....  814 

65.  Plan  of  Capitals, 817 

66.  Plan  of  Capital*, 322 

67.  Plan  of  Capitals, 322 

68.  Plan  of  Capitals, 323 

69.  ArchiYolt, 326 

70.  Archivolt  Decoration.     Southern  and  Byzantine,      .         .        .  329 
Sea,  by  Greek  Architect, 344 

71.  River,  by  Egyptian  Artist, „         .415 

78.  Varieties  of  Chamfer, „        .      426 


THE   STONES  OF  VENICE. 


CHAPTER  L 

THE   QUARRY. 

§  L  SINCE  the  first  dominion  of  mon  was  assertei  over  thi 
ocean,  three  thrones,  of  mark  beyond  all  others,  have  been  set 
upon  its  sands  :  the  thrones  of  Tyre,  Veaice,  and  England.  Of 
the  First  of  these  great  powers  only  the  memory  remains ;  of  the 
Second,  the  ruin  ;  the  Third,  which,  inherits  their  greatness,  if 
it  forget  their  example,  may  be  led  through  prouder  eminence 
to  less  pitied  destruction. 

The  exaltation,  the  sin,  and  the  punishment  of  Tyre  have 
been  recorded  for  us,  in  perhaps  the  most  touching  words  ever 
uttered  by  the  Prophets  of  Israel  against  the  cities  of  the 
stranger.  But  we  read  them  as  a  lovely  song  ;  and  close  our 
ears  to  the  sternness  of  their  warning  :  for  the  very  depth  of 
the  Fall  of  Tyre  has  blinded  us  to  its  reality,  and  we  forget, 
as  we  watch  the  bleaching  of  the  rocks  between  the  sunshine 
and  the  sea,  that  they  were  once  "  as  in  Eden,  the  garden  of 
God." 

Her  successor,  like  her  in  perfection  of  beauty,  though  less 
in  endurance  of  dominion,  is  still  left  for  our  beholding  in  the 
final  period  of  her  decline  :  a  ghost  upon  the  sands  of  the  sea, 
so  weak — so  quiet, — so  bereft  of  all  but  her  loveliness,  that  we 
might  well  doubt,  as  we  watched  her  faint  reflection  in  the 
mirage  of  the  lagoon,  which  was  the  City,  and  which  the 
Shadow. 

I  would  endeavor  to  trace  the  lines  of  this  image  before  it 
be  for  ever  lost,  and  to  record,  as  far  as  I  may,  the  warning 
Which  seems  to  me  to  be  uttered  by  every  one  of  the  fast* 


16  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

gaining  waves,  that  beat,  like  passing  bells,  against  the  STORM 
OF  VENICE. 

§  n.  It  would  be  difficult  to  overrate  the  value  of  the  les- 
sons which  might  be  derived  from  a  faithful  study  of  the  his- 
tory of  this  strange  and  mighty  city  :  a  history  which,  in  spite 
of  the  labor  of  countless  chroniclers,  remains  in  vague  and  dis- 
putable outline, — barred  with  brightness  and  shade,  like  the 
far  away  edge  of  her  own  ocean,  where  the  surf  and  the  sand* 
bank  are  mingled  with  the  sky.  The  inquiries  in  which  we 
have  to  engage  will  hardly  render  this  outline  clearer,  but 
their  results  will,  in  some  degree,  alter  its  aspect ;  and,  so  far 
as  they  bear  upon  it  at  all,  they  possess  an  interest  of  a  far 
higher  kind  than  that  usually  belonging  to  architectural  inves- 
tigations. I  may,  perhaps,  in  the  outset,  and  in  few  words, 
enable  the  general  reader  to  form  a  clearer  idea  of  the  impor- 
tance of  every  existing  expression  of  Venetian  character  through 
Venetian  art,  and  of  the  breadth  of  interest  which  the  true  his« 
tory  of  Venice  embraces,  than  he  is  likely  to  have  gleaned  from 
the  current  fables  of  her  mystery  or  magnificence. 

§  m.  Venice  is  usually  conceived  as  an  oligarchy  :  She  was 
so  during  a  period  less  than  the  half  of  her  existence,  and  that 
including  the  days  of  her  decline  ;  and  it  is  one  of  the  first 
questions  needing  severe  examination,  whether  that  decline 
was  owing  in  any  wise  to  the  change  in  the  form  of  her  gov- 
ernment, or  altogether,  as  assuredly  in  great  part,  to  changes, 
it  the  character  of  the  persons  of  whom  it  was  composed. 

The  state  of  Venice  existed  Thirteen  Hundred  and  Seventy- 
six  yearc>  from  the  first  establishment  of  a  consular  govern- 
ment on  the  island  of  the  Rialto,*  to  the  moment  when  the 
General-in-chief  of  the  French  army  of  Italy  pronounced  the 
Venetian  republic  a  thing  of  the  past.  Of  this  period,  Two 
Hundred  and  Seventy-six  "f  years  were  passed  in  a  nominal  sub- 
jection to  the  cities  of  old  Venetia,  especially  to  Padua,  and  in 
an  agitated  form  of  democracy,  of  which  the  executive  appears 
to  have  been  entrusted  to  tribunes,  \  chosen,  one  by  the  inW> 

*  Appendix  1,    '  Foundation  of  Venice." 

f  Appendix  2,  "  Power  of  the  Doges." 

\  Sismondi,  Hist,  des  Rep.  Jtal.,  vol.  i.  ch.  v. 


THE   QUARRY  17 

itants  of  each  of  the  principal  islands.  For  six  hundred  years,* 
during  which  the  power  of  Venice  was  continually  on  the  in- 
crease, her  government  was  an  elective  monarchy,  her  King  or 
doge  possessing,  in  early  times  at  least,  as  much  independent 
authority  as  any  other  European  sovereign,  but  an  authority 
gradually  subjected  to  limitation,  and  shortened  almost  daily 
of  its  prerogatives,  while  it  increased  in  a  spectral  and  inca- 
pable magnificence.  The  final  government  of  the  nobles,  un- 
der the  image  of  a  king,  lasted  for  five  hundred  years,  during 
which  Venice  reaped  the  fruits  of  her  former  energies,  con- 
sumed them, — and  expired. 

§  rv.  Let  the  reader  therefore  conceive  the  existence  of  the 
Venetian  state  as  broadly  divided  into  two  periods  :  the  first 
of  nine  hundred,  the  second  of  five  hundred  years,  the  separa- 
tion being  marked  by  what  was  called  the  "  Serrar  del  Con- 
iiglio  ; "  that  is  to  say,  the  final  and  absolute  distinction  of 
the  nobles  from  the  commonalty,  and  the  establishment  of  the 
government  in  their  hands  to  the  exclusion  alike  of  the  in- 
fluence of  the  people  on  the  one  side,  and  the  authority  of  the 
doge  on  the  other. 

Then  the  first  period,  of  nine  hundred  years,  presents  us 
with  the  most  interesting  spectacle  of  a  people  struggling  out 
of  anarchy  into  order  and  power  ;  and  then  governed,  for  the 
most  part,  by  the  worthiest  and  noblest  man  whom  they  could 
find  among  them,f  called  their  Doge  or  Leader,  with  an  aris- 
tocracy gradually  and  resolutely  forming  itself  around  him, 
out  of  which,  and  at  last  by  which,  he  was  chosen  ;  an  aristoc- 
racy owing  its  origin  to  the  accidental  numbers,  influence, 
and  wealth  of  some  among  the  families  of  the  fugitives  from 
the  older  Venetia,  and  gradually  organizing  itself,  by  its  unity 
and  heroism,  into  a  separate  body. 

This  first  period  includes  the  rise  of  Venice,  ner  noblest 
achievements,  and  the  circumstances  which  determined  her 
character  and  position  among  European  powers ;  and  within 

*  Appendix  3,  "Serrar  del  Consiglio." 

f  "  Ha  saputo  trovar  modo  che  non  uno,  non  pochi,  non  molti,  signo- 
reggiano,  ma  molti  buoni,  pochi  migliori.  e  insiememente,  un  ottimt 
9oio."     (Sanaoduo.)    Ab,  well  done,  Venice  I     Wisdom  this,  indeed, 
VOL. 


18  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

its  range,  as  might  have  been  anticipated,  we  find  the  name« 
of  all  her  hero  princes, — of  Pietro  Urseolo,  Ordalafo  Falier, 
Domenico  Michieli,  Sebastiano  Ziani,  and  Enrico  Dandolo. 

§  v.  The  second  period  opens  with  a  hundred  and  twenty 
years,  the  most  eventful  in  the  career  of  Venice — the  central 
struggle  of  her  life — stained  with  her  darkest  crime,  the  mur- 
der of  Carrara — disturbed  by  her  most  dangerous  internal 
sedition,  the  conspiracy  of  Falier — oppressed  by  her  most 
fatal  war,  the  war  of  Chiozza — and  distinguished  by  the  glory 
of  her  two  noblest  citizens  (for  in  this  period  the  heroism  of 
her  citizens  replaces  that  of  her  monarchs),  Vittor  Pisani  and 
Carlo  Zeno. 

I  date  the  commencement  of  the  fall  of  Venice  from  the 
death  of  Carlo  Zeno,  8th  May,  1418  ;  *  the  visible  commence- 
ment from  that  of  another  of  her  noblest  and  wisest  children, 
the  Doge  Tomaso  Mocenigo,  who  expired  five  years  later. 
The  reign  of  Foscari  followed,  gloomy  with  pestilence  and 
war  ;  a  war  in  which  large  acquisitions  of  territory  were  made 
by  subtle  or  fortunate  policy  in  Lombardy,  and  disgrace, 
significant  as  irreparable,  sustained  in  the  battles  on  the  Po 
at  Cremona,  and  in  the  marshes  of  Caravaggio.  In  1454, 
Venice,  the  first  of  the  states  of  Christendom,  humiliated 
herself  to  the  Turk  :  in  the  same  year  was  established  the  In- 
quisition of  State,f  and  from  this  period  her  government 
takes  the  perfidious  and  mysterious  form  under  which  it  is 
usually  conceived.  In  1477,  the  great  Turkish  invasion  spread 
terror  to  the  shores  of  the  lagoons  ;  and  in  1508  the  league 
of  Cambrai  marks  the  period  usually  assigned  as  the  com- 
mencement of  the  decline  of  the  Venetian  power ;  J  the  com- 
mercial prosperity  of  Venice  in  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury blinding  her  historians  to  the  previous  evidence  of  the 
diminution  of  her  internal  strength. 

*  Darn,  liv.  zii  ch.  xii. 

f  Daru,  liv.  xvi.  cap.  xx.  We  owe  to  this  historian  the  discovery  of 
the  statutes  of  the  tribunal  and  date  of  its  establishment. 

t  Ominously  signified  by  their  humiliation  to  the  Papal  power  (a* 
before  to  the  Turkish  i  in  1509,  and  their  abaadonment  of  their  right  of 
appointing  the  clergy  of  their  territories. 


THE    QUARRY.  18 

§  VT.  Now  there  is  apparently  a  significative  coincidenc€ 
between  the  establishment  of  the  aristocratic  and  oligarchical 
powers,  and  the  diminution  of  the  prosperity  of  the  state. 
But  this  is  the  very  question  at  issue  ;  and  it  appears  to  me 
quite  undetermined  by  any  historian,  or  determined  by  each 
in  accordance  with  his  own  prejudices.  It  is  a  triple  ques- 
tion :  first,  whether  the  oligarchy  established  by  the  efforts 
of  individual  ambition  was  the  cause,  in  its  subsequent  oper- 
ation, of  the  Fall  of  Venice  ;  or  (secondly)  whether  the  es- 
tablishment of  the  oligarchy  itself  be  not  the  sign  and  evi- 
dence, rather  than  the  cause,  of  national  enervation  ;  or 
(lastly)  whether,  as  I  rather  think,  the  history  of  Venice  might 
not  be  written  almost  without  reference  to  the  construction 
of  her  senate  or  the  prerogatives  of  her  Doge.  It  is  the  his- 
tory of  a  people  eminently  at  unity  in  itself,  descendants  of 
Roman  race,  long  disciplined  by  adversity,  and  compelled  by 
its  position  either  to  live  nobly  or  to  perish  : — for  a  thousand 
years  they  fought  for  life  ;  for  three  hundred  they  invited 
death :  their  battle  was  rewarded,  and  their  call  was  heard. 

§  vn.  Throughout  her  career,  the  victories  of  Venice,  and, 
at  many  periods  of  it,  her  safety,  were  purchased  by  indi- 
vidual heroism  ;  and  the  man  who  exalted  or  saved  her  was 
sometimes  (oftenest)  her  king,  sometimes  a  noble,  sometimes 
a  citizen.  To  him  no  matter,  nor  to  her  :  the  real  question 
is,  not  so  much  what  names  they  bore,  or  with  what  powers 
they  were  entrusted,  as  how  they  were  trained  ;  how  they 
were  made  masters  of  themselves,  servants  of  their  country, 
patient  of  distress,  impatient  of  dishonor ;  and  what  was  the 
true  reason  of  the  change  from  the  time  when  she  could  find 
saviours  among  those  whom  she  had  cast  into  prison,  to  that 
when  the  voices  of  her  own  children  commanded  her  to  sign 
covenant  with  Death.* 

§  vin.  On  this  collateral  question  I  wish  the  reader's  mind 
to  be  fixed  throughout  all  our  subsequent  inquiries.  It  will 
give  double  interest  to  every  detail :  nor  will  the  interest  be 
profitless  ;  for  the  evidence  which  I  shall  be  able  to  deduce 

*  The  senate  voted  the  abdication  of  their  authority  by  a  majority  of 
812  to  14.  (Alison,  ch.  xxiii. ) 


30  THE  STONES  OP    VENICE. 

from  the  arts  of  Venice  will  be  both  frequent  and  irrefrag- 
able, that  the  decline  of  her  political  prosperity  was  exactly 
coincident  with  that  of  domestic  and  individual  religion. 

I  say  domestic  and  individual  ;  for — and  this  is  the  second 
point  which  I  wish  the  reader  to  keep  in  mind — the  most 
curious  phenomenon  in  all  Venetian  history  is  the  vitality  of 
religion  in  private  life,  and  its  deadness  in  public  policy. 
Amidst  the  enthusiasm,  chivalry,  or  fanaticism  of  the  other 
states  of  Europe,  Venice  stands,  from  first  to  last,  like  a 
masked  statue  ;  her  coldness  impenetrable,  her  exertion  only 
aroused  by  the  touch  of  a  secret  spring.  That  spring  waa 
her  commercial  interest, — this  the  one  motive  of  all  her  im- 
portant political  acts,  or  enduring  national  animosities.  She 
could  forgive  insults  to  her  honor,  but  never  rivalship  in  her 
commerce  ;  she  calculated  the  glory  of  her  conquests  by  their 
value,  and  estimated  their  justice  by  their  facility.  The  fame 
of  success  remains,  when  the  motives  of  attempt  are  forgot- 
ten ;  and  the  casual  reader  of  her  history  may  perliaps  be  sur- 
prised to  be  reminded,  that  the  expedition  which  was  com- 
manded by  the  noblest  of  her  princes,  and  whose  results  added 
most  to  her  military  glory,  was  one  in  which  while  all  Europe 
around  her  was  wasted  by  the  fire  of  its  devotion,  she  first 
calculated  the  highest  price  she  could  exact  from  its  piety  for 
the  armament  she  furnished,  and  then,  for  the  advancement 
of  her  own  private  interests,  at  once  broke  her  faith  *  and  be- 
trayed her  religion. 

§  ix.  And  yet,  in  the  midst  of  this  national  criminality,  we 
shall  be  struck  again  and  again  by  the  evidences  of  the  most 
noble  individual  feeling.  The  tears  of  Dandolo  were  not  shed 
in  hypocrisy,  though  they  could  not  blind  him  to  the  impor- 
tance of  the  conquest  of  Zara.  The  habit  of  assigning  to  re» 
ligion  a  direct  influence  over  all  his  ovm  actions,  and  all  the 
affairs  of  his  own  daily  life,  is  remarkable  in  every  great  Vene- 
tian during  the  times  of  the  prosperity  of  the  state  ;  nor  are 
instances  wanting  in  which  the  private  feeling  of  the  citizeni 

*  By  directing  the  arms  of  the  Crusaders  agaiuat  a  Christian  prino* 
\Daru,  liv.  IT.  ch.  iv.  viii.) 


THE  QUARRY.  21 

reaches  the  sphere  of  their  policy,  and  even  becomes  the  guide 
of  its  course  where  the  scales  of  expediency  are  doubtfully 
balanced.  I  sincerely  trust  that  the  inquirer  would  be  disap- 
pointed who  should  endeavor  to  trace  any  more  immediate 
reasons  for  their  adoption  of  the  cause  of  Alexander  HL 
against  Barbarossa,  than  the  piety  which  was  excited  by  the 
character  of  their  suppliant,  and  the  noble  pride  which  was 
provoked  by  the  insolence  of  the  emperor.  But  the  heart  of 
Venice  is  shown  only  in  her  hastiest  councils  ;  her  worldly 
spirit  recovers  the  ascendency  whenever  she  has  time  to  cal- 
culate the  probabilities  of  advantage,  or  when  they  are  suffi- 
ciently distinct  to  need  no  calculation  ;  and  the  entire  subjec- 
tion of  private  piety  to  national  policy  is  not  only  remarkable 
throughout  the  almost  endless  series  of  treacheries  and  tyran- 
nies by  which  her  empire  was  enlarged  and  maintained,  but 
symbolised  by  a  very  singular  circumstance  in  the  building  of 
the  city  itself.  I  am  aware  of  no  other  city  of  Europe  in 
which  its  cathedral  was  not  the  principal  feature.  But  the 
principal  church  in  Venice  was  the  chapel  attached  to  the 
palace  of  her  prince,  and  called  the  "  Chiesa  Ducale."  The 
patriarchal  church,*  inconsiderable  in  size  and  mean  in  deco- 
ration, stands  on  the  outermost  islet  of  the  Venetian  group, 
and  its  name,  as  well  as  its  site,  is  probably  unknown  to  the 
greater  number  of  travellers  passing  hastily  through  the  city. 
Nor  is  it  less  worthy  of  remark,  that  the  two  most  important 
temples  of  Venice,  next  to  the  ducal  chapel,  owe  their  size  and 
magnificence,  not  to  national  effort,  but  to  the  energy  of  the 
Franciscan  and  Dominican  monks,  supported  by  the  vast  or- 
ganization of  those  great  societies  on  the  mainland  of  Italy, 
and  countenanced  by  the  most  pious,  and  perhaps  also,  in  hie 
generation,  the  most  wise,  of  all  the  princes  of  Venice,  f  who 
now  rests  beneath  the  roof  of  one  of  those  very  temples,  and 
whose  life  is  not  satirized  by  the  images  of  the  Virtues  which 
»  Tuscan  sculptor  has  placed  around  his  tomb. 

§  x.     There  are,  therefore,  two  strange  and  solemn  light* 

*  Appendix  4,  "  San  Pietro  di  Castello.* 
|  Tomasc  Aloceuigo,  above  named,  §  T. 


22  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

in  which  we  have  to  regard  almost  every  scene  in  the  fitfuu 
history  of  the  Eivo  Alto.  We  find,  on  the  one  hand,  a  deep 
and  constant  tone  of  individual  religion  characterising  the 
lives  of  the  citizens  of  Venice  in  her  greatness  ;  we  find  this 
spirit  influencing  them  in  all  the  familiar  and  immediate  con- 
cerns of  life,  giving  a  peculiar  dignity  to  the  conduct  even  of 
their  commercial  transactions,  and  confessed  by  them  with  a 
simplicity  of  faith  that  may  well  put  to  shame  the  hesitation 
with  which  a  man  of  the  world  at  present  admits  (even  if  it 
be  so  in  reality)  that  religious  feeling  has  any  influence  over 
the  minor  branches  of  his  conduct  And  we  find  as  the  natu- 
ral consequence  of  all  this,  a  healthy  serenity  of  mind  and 
energy  of  will  expressed  in  all  their  actions,  and  a  habit  of 
heroism  which  never  fails  them,  even  when  the  immediate 
motive  of  action  ceases  to  be  praiseworthy.  With  the  fulness 
of  this  spirit  the  prosperity  of  the  state  is  exactly  correspond- 
ent, and  with  its  failure  her  decline,  and  that  with  a  closeness 
and  precision  which  it  will  be  one  of  the  collateral  objects  of 
the  following  essay  to  demonstrate  from  such  accidental  evi- 
dence as  the  field  of  its  inquiry  presents.  And,  thus  far,  all 
is  natural  and  simple.  But  the  stopping  short  of  this  religious 
faith  when  it  appears  likely  to  influence  national  action,  corre- 
spondent as  it  is,  and  that  most  strikingly,  with  several  char- 
acteristics of  the  temper  of  our  present  English  legislature,  is 
a  subject,  morally  and  politically,  of  the  most  curious  interest 
and  complicated  difficulty  ;  one,  however,  which  the  range  of 
my  present  inquiry  will  not  permit  me  to  approach,  and  for 
the  treatment  of  which  I  must  be  content  to  furnish  materials 
in  the  light  I  may  be  able  to  throw  upon  the  private  tenden- 
cies of  the  Venetian  character. 

§  XL  There  is,  however,  another  most  interesting  feature  in 
the  policy  of  Venice  which  will  be  often  brought  before  us ; 
and  which  a  Romanist  would  gladly  assign  as  the  reason  of 
its  irreligion  ;  namely,  the  magnificent  and  successful  struggle 
which  she  maintained  against  the  temporal  authority  of  the 
Church  of  Borne.  It  is  true  that,  in  a  rapid  survey  of  her 
career,  the  eye  is  at  first  arrested  by  the  strange  drama  to 
Which  I  have  already  alluded,  closed  by  that  ever  ineinorabli 


THE  QUARRY.  23 

scene  in  the  portico  of  St  Mark's,*  the  central  expression  in 
most  men's  thoughts  of  the  unendurable  elevation  of  the  pon- 
tifical power ;  it  is  true  that  the  proudest  thoughts  of  Venice, 
as  well  as  the  insignia  of  her  prince,  and  the  form  of  her  chief 
festival,  recorded  the  service  thus  rendered  to  the  Roman 
Church.  But  the  enduring  sentiment  of  years  more  than  bal- 
anced the  enthusiasm  of  a  moment ;  and  the  bull  of  Clem«nt 
V.,  which  excommunicated  the  Venetians  and  their  doge, 
likening  them  to  Dathan,  Abiram,  Absalom,  and  Lucifer,  is  a 
stronger  evidence  of  the  great  tendencies  of  the  Venetian  gov- 
ernment than  the  umbreUa  of  the  doge  or  the  ring  of  the 
Adriatic.  The  humiliation  of  Francesco  Dandolo  blotted  out 
the  shame  of  Barbarossa,  and  the  total  exclusion  of  ecclesias- 
tics from  all  share  in  the  councils  of  Venice  became  an  endur- 
ing mark  of  her  knowledge  of  the  spirit  of  the  Church  of  Rome, 
and  of  her  defiance  of  it. 

To  this  exclusion  of  Papal  influence  from  her  councils,  the 
Romanist  will  attribute  their  irreligion,  and  the  Protestant 
their  success,  f  The  first  may  be  silenced  by  a  reference  to 
ihe  character  of  the  policy  of  the  Vatican  itself  ;  and  the  second 
by  his  own  shame,  when  he  reflects  that  the  English  legislature 
sacrificed  their  principles  to  expose  themselves  to  the  very 
danger  which  the  Venetian  senate  sacrificed  theirs  to  avoid. 

§  xn.  One  more  circumstance  remains  to  be  noted  respect- 
ing the  Venetian  government,  the  singular  unity  of  the  fami- 
lies composing  it, — unity  far  from  sincere  or  perfect,  but  still 

*  "  In  that  temple  porch, 
(The  brass  is  gone,  the  porphyry  remains,) 
Did  BARBAROSSA  fling  his  mantle  off, 
And  kneeling,  on  his  neck  receive  the  foot 
Of  the  proud  Pontiff — thus  at  last  consoled 
For  flight,  disguise,  and  many  an  aguish  shake 
On  his  stone  pillow. " 

I  need  hardly  say  whence  the  lines  are  taken:  Rogers'  "Italy"  has,  I 
believe,  now  a  place  in  the  best  beloved  compartment  of  all  libraries, 
and  will  never  be  removed  from  it.  There  is  more  true  expression  of 
the  spirit  of  Venice  in  the  passages  devoted  to  her  in  that  poem,  than  i* 
all  else  that  has  been  written  of  her. 

f  At  least,  such  success  as  they  had.  Vide  Appendix  5,  "  The  Papal 
Power  in  Venice." 


24  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

admirable  when  contrasted  with  the  fiery  feuds,  the  almo*4 
daily  revolutions,  the  restless  successions  of  families  and 
parties  in  power,  which  fill  the  annals  of  the  other  states  of 
Italy.  That  rivalship  should  sometimes  be  ended  by  the  dag- 
ger, or  enmity  conducted  to  its  ends  under  the  mask  of  law, 
could  not  but  be  anticipated  where  the  fierce  Italian  spirit 
was  subjected  to  so  severe  a  restraint :  it  is  much  that  jealousy 
appears  usually  unmingled  with  illegitimate  ambition,  and 
that,  for  every  instance  in  which  private  passion  sought  its 
gratification  through  public  danger,  there  are  a  thousand  in 
which  it  was  sacrificed  to  the  public  advantage.  Venice  may 
well  call  upon  us  to  note  with  reverence,  that  of  all  the  towers 
which  are  still  seen  rising  like  a  branchless  forest  from  her 
islands,  there  is  but  one  whose  office  was  other  than  that  of 
summoning  to  prayer,  and  that  one  was  a  watch-tower  only : 
from  first  to  last,  while  the  palaces  of  the  other  cities  of  Italy 
were  lifted  into  sullen  fortitudes  of  rampart,  and  fringed  with 
forked  battlements  for  the  javelin  and  the  bow,  the  sands  of 
Venice  never  sank  under  the  weight  of  a  war  tower,  and  her 
roof  terraces  were  wreathed  with  Arabian  imagery,  of  golden 
globes  suspended  on  the  leaves  of  lilies.* 

§  xm.  These,  then,  appear  to  me  to  be  the  points  of  chief 
general  interest  in  the  character  and  fate  of  the  Venetian  peo- 
ple. I  would  next  endeavor  to  give  the  reader  some  idea  of 
the  manner  in  which  the  testimony  of  Art  bears  upon  these 
questions,  and  of  the  aspect  which  the  arts  themselves  assume 
when  they  are  regarded  in  their  true  connexion  with  the  his- 
tory of  the  state. 

1st.  Receive  the  witness  of  Painting. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  I  put  the  commencement  of  the 
Fall  of  Venice  as  far  back  as  1418. 

Now,  John  Bellini  was  born  in  1423,  and  Titian  in  1480. 
John  Bellini,  anc1  his  brother  Gentile,  two  years  older  than  he, 
close  the  line  o*  the  sacred  painters  of  Venice.  But  the  most 
solemn  spirit  of  religious  faith  animates  their  works  to  the 

*  The  inconsiderable  fortifications  of  the  arsenal  are  no  exception  to 
this  statement,  as  far  as  it  regards  the  city  itself.  They  are  little  morv 
than  a  »eiubl»uc«  of  precaution  against  the  attack  of  a  foreign  eueinj. 


THE  QUARRY.  25 

last.  There  is  no  religion  in  any  work  of  Titian's  :  there  is 
jaot  even  the  smallest  evidence  of  religious  temper  or  sympa- 
thies either  in  himself,  or  in  those  for  whom  he  painted.  Hifl 
larger  sacred  subjects  are  merely  themes  for  the  exhibition  of 
pictorial  rhetoric, — composition  and  color.  His  minor  works 
,are  generally  made  subordinate  to  purposes  of  portraiture. 
The  Madonna  in  the  church  of  the  Frari  is  a  mere  lay  figure, 
introduced  to  form  a  link  of  connexion  between  the  portraits 
of  various  members  of  the  Pesaro  family  who  surround 
her. 

Now  this  is  not  merely  because  John  Bellini  was  a  religious 
man  and  Titian  was  not.  Titian  and  Bellini  are  each  true 
representatives  of  the  school  of  painters  contemporary  with 
them  ;  and  the  difference  in  their  artistic  feeling  is  a  conse- 
quence not  so  much  of  difference  in  their  own  natural  charac- 
ters as  in  their  early  education  :  Bellini  was  brought  up  in 
faith ;  Titian  in  formalism.  Between  the  years  of  their  births 
the  vital  religion  of  Venice  had  expired. 

§  xiv.  The  vital  religion,  observe,  not  the  formal  Outward 
observance  was  as  strict  as  ever  ;  and  doge  and  senator  still 
were  painted,  in  almost  every  important  instance,  kneeling 
before  the  Madonna  or  St.  Mark  ;  a  confession  of  faith  made 
universal  by  the  pure  gold  of  the  Venetian  sequin.  But  ob- 
serve the  great  picture  of  Titian's  in  the  ducal  palace,  of  the 
Doge  Antonio  Grimani  kneeling  before  Faith  :  there  is  a 
curious  lesson  in  it.  The  figure  of  Faith  is  a  coarse  portrait 
of  one  of  Titian's  least  graceful  female  models:  Faith  had 
become  carnal  The  eye  is  first  caught  by  the  flash  of  the 
Doge's  armor.  The  heart  of  Venice  was  in  her  wars,  not  in 
her  worship. 

The  mind  of  Tintoret,  incomparably  more  deep  and  serious 
than  that  of  Titian,  casts  the  solemnity  of  its  own  tone  over 
the  sacred  subjects  which  it  approaches,  and  sometimes  for- 
gets itself  into  devotion  ;  but  the  principle  of  treatment  is  mi- 
together  the  same  as  Titian's :  absolute  subordination  of  the 
religious  subject  to  purposes  of  decoration  or  portraiture. 

The  evidence  might  be  accumulated  a  thousandfold  from 
the  works  of  Veronese,  and  of  every  succeeding  painter, — that 

Stones  of  Venice — Vol.  Ju— 4 


26  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

the  fifteenth  century  had  taken  away  the  religious  heart  of 
Venice. 

§  xv.  Such  is  the  evidence  of  Painting.  To  collect  that  of 
Architecture  will  be  our  task  through  many  a  page  to  come  ; 
but  I  must  here  give  a  general  idea  of  its  heads. 

Philippe  de  Commynes,  writing  of  his  entry  into  Venice  in 
1495,  says, — 

"  Chascun  me  feit  seoir  au  meillieu  de  ces  deux  ambassa- 
deurs  qui  est  1'honneur  d'ltalie  que  d'estre  au  meillieu ;  et  me 
menerent  au  long  de  la  grant  rue,  qu'ilz  appellent  le  Canal 
Grant,  et  est  bien  large.  Les  gallees  y  passent  a  travers  et  y 
ay  veu  navire  de  quatre  cens  tonneaux  ou  plus  pres  des 
maisons  :  et  est  la  plus  belle  rue  que  je  croy  qui  soit  en  tout 
le  monde,  et  la  mieulx  maisonnee,  et  va  le  long  de  la  ville. 
Les  maisons  sont  fort  grandes  et  haultes,  et  de  bonne  pierre, 
et  les  anciennes  toutes  painctes ;  les  aultres  faictes  depuis 
cent  ans  :  toutes  ont  le  devant  de  marbre  blanc,  qui  leur 
vient  d'Istrie,  &  cent  mils  de  la,  et  encores  maincte  grant 
piece  de  porphire  et  de  sarpentine  sur  le  devant.  .  .  . 
C'est  la  plus  triumphante  cite  que  j'aye  jamais  veue  et  qui 
plus  faict  d'honneur  a  ambassadeurs  et  estrangiers,  et  qui 
plus  saigement  se  gouverne,  et  oti  le  service  de  Dieu  est  le 
plus  sollempnellement  faict :  et  encores  qu'il  y  peust  bien 
avoir  d'aultres  faultes,  si  je  croy  que  Dieu  les  a  en  ayde  pour 
la  reverence  qu'ilz  portent  au  service  de  1'Eglise."  * 

§  xvi.  This  passage  is  of  peculiar  interest,  for  two  reasons. 
Observe,  first,  the  impression  of  Commynes  respecting  the 
religion  of  Venice  :  of  which,  as  I  have  above  said,  the  forms 
still  remained  with  some  glimmering  of  life  in  them,  and  were 
the  evidence  of  what  the  real  life  had  been  in  former  times. 
But  observe,  secondly,  the  impression  instantly  made  on 
Commynes'  mind  by  the  distinction  between  the  elder  palaces 
and  those  built  "  within  this  last  hundred  years ;  which  all 
have  their  fronts  of  white  marble  brought  from  Istria,  a  hun- 
dred miles  away,  and  besides,  many  a  large  piece  of  porphyry 
and  serpentine  upon  their  fronts." 

On  the  opposite  page  I  have  given  two  of  the  ornaments  of 
*  Memoires  de  Commynes,  liv.  vii.  oh.  xviii- 


WALL  VEIL  DECORATION. 

CA'TREVISAN,  CA'DARIO. 


THE  QUARRY.  27 

the  palaces  which  so  struck  the  French  ambassador.*  He 
WHS  right  in  his  notice  of  the  distinction.  There  had  indeed 
coine  a  change  over  Venetian  architecture  in  the  fifteenth  cen* 
tury  ;  and  a  change  of  some  importance  to  us  moderns :  we 
English  owe  to  it  our  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  and  Europe  in 
general  owes  to  it  the  utter  degradation  or  destruction  of  her 
schools  of  architecture,  never  since  revived.  But  that  the 
reader  may  understand  this,  it  is  necessary  that  he  should 
have  some  general  idea  of  the  connexion  of  the  architecture 
of  Venice  with  that  of  the  rest  of  Europe,  from  its  origin 
forwards. 

§  xvii.  All  European  architecture,  bad  and  good,  old  and 
new,  is  derived  from  Greece  through  Borne,  and  colored  and 
perfected  from  the  East.  The  history  of  architecture  is 
nothing  but  the  tracing  of  the  various  modes  and  directions 
of  this  derivation.  Understand  this,  oiice  for  all :  if  you  hold 
fast  this  great  connecting  clue,  you  may  string  all  the  types 
of  successive  architectural  invention  upon  it  like  so  many 
beads.  The  Doric  and  the  Corinthian  orders  are  the  roots, 
khe  one  of  all  Romanesque,  massy-capitaled  buildings — Nor- 
man, Lombard,  Byzantine,  and  what  else  you  can  name  of 
the  kind ;  and  the  Corinthian  of  all  Gothic,  Early  English, 
French,  German,  and  Tuscan.  Now  observe :  those  old 
Greeks  gave  the  shaft  ;  Rome  gave  the  arch;  the  Arabs? 
pointed  and  foliated  the  arch.  The  shaft  and  arch,  the 
frame-work  and  strength  of  architecture,  are  from  the  race 
of  Japheth ;  the  spirituality  and  sanctity  of  it  from  Ismaei 
Abraham,  and  Shein. 

§  xvra.  There  is  high  probability  that  the  Greek  received 
bis  shaft  system  from  Egypt ;  but  I  do  not  care  to  keep  tbie 
earlier  derivation  in  the  mind  of  the  reader.  It  is  only  neces- 
sary that  he  should  be  able  to  refer  to  a  fixed  point  of  origin, 
when  the  form  of  the  shaft  was  first  perfected.  But  it  may 
be  incidentally  observed,  that  if  the  Greeks  did  indeed  receive 
their  Doric  from  Egypt,  then  the  three  families  of  the  earth 
have  each  contributed  their  part  to  its  noblest  architecture  ; 
and  Ham,  the  servant  of  the  others,  furnishes  the  sustaining 
*  Appendix  6,  'Renaissance  Ornament*." 


88  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

or  bearing  member,  the  shaft ;  Japheth  the  arch ;  Shem  th« 
spiritualisation  of  both. 

§  xix.  I  have  said  that  the  two  orders,  Doric  and  Corinthian, 
are  the  roots  of  all  European  architecture.  You  have,  per- 
haps, heard  of  five  orders  ;  but  there  are  only  two  real  orderss 
and  there  never  can  be  any  more  until  doomsday.  On  one 
of  these  orders  the  ornament  is  convex  :  those  are  Doric, 
Norman,  and  what  else  you  recollect  of  the  kind.  On  the 
other  the  ornament  is  concave  :  those  are  Corinthian,  Early 
English,  Decorated,  and  what  else  you  recollect  of  that  kind. 
The  transitional  form,  in  which  the  ornamental  line  is  straight, 
is  the  centre  or  root  of  both.  All  other  orders  are  varieties 
of  those,  or  phantasms  and  grotesques  altogether  indefinite  in 
number  and  species.* 

§  xx.  This  Greek  architecture,  then,  with  its  two  orders, 
was  clumsily  copied  and  varied  by  the  Romans  with  no  par- 
ticular result,  until  they  begun  to  bring  the  arch  into  exten- 
sive practical  service  ;  except  only  that  the  Doric  capital  waa 
spoiled  in  endeavors  to  mend  it,  and  the  Corinthian  much 
varied  and  enriched  with  fanciful,  and  often  very  beautiful 
imagery.  And  in  this  state  of  things  came  Christianity  : 
seized  upon  the  arch  as  her  own  ;  decorated  it,  and  delighted 
in  it ;  invented  a  new  Doric  capital  to  replace  the  spoiled 
Roman  one  :  and  all  over  the  Roman  empire  set  to  work, 
with  such  materials  as  were  nearest  at  hand,  to  express  and 
adorn  herself  as  best  she  could.  This  Roinar  Christian  archi- 
tecture is  the  exact  expression  of  the  Christianity  of  the  time, 
very  fervid  and  beautiful — but  very  imperfect ;  in  many  re- 
spects ignorant,  and  yet  radiant  with  a  strong,  childlike  light 
of  imagination,  which  flames  up  under  Constantino,  illumines 
all  the  shores  of  the  Bosphorus  and  the  2Egean  and  the 
Adriatic  Sea,  and  then  gradually,  as  the  people  give  them- 
Belves  up  to  idolatry,  becomes  Corpse-light.  The  architect- 
ure sinks  into  a  settled  form — a  strange,  gilded,  and  em- 
balmed repose  :  it,  with  the  religion  it  expressed ;  and  so 
would  have  remained  for  ever, — so  does  remain,  where  ita 

*  Appendix  7,  "Varieties  of  the  Orders.* 


THE  QUARRY.  29 

omguor  has  been  undisturbed.*  But  rough  wakening  was 
ordained  for  it. 

§  xxi.  This  Christian  art  of  the  declining  empire  is  divided 
into  two  great  branches,  western  and  eastern  ;  one  centred  at 
Rome,  the  other  at  Byzantium,  of  which  the  one  is  the  early 
Christian  Romanesque,  properly  so  called,  and  the  other,  car- 
ried to  higher  imaginative  perfection  by  Greek  workmen,  is 
distinguished  from  it  as  Byzantine.  But  I  wish  the  reader, 
for  the  present,  to  class  these  two  branches  of  art  together  ia 
his  mind,  they  being,  in  points  of  main  importance,  the  same  ; 
that  is  to  say,  both  of  them  a  true  continuance  and  sequence 
of  the  art  of  old  Rome  itself,  flowing  uninterruptedly  down 
from  the  fountain-head,  and  entrusted  always  to  the  best 
workmen  who  could  be  found— Latins  in  Italy  and  Greeks  in 
Greece  ;  and  thus  both  branches  may  be  ranged  under  the 
general  term  of  Christian  Romanesque,  an  architecture  which 
had  lost  the  refinement  of  ragciu  art  in  the  degradation  of  the 
empire,  but  which  was  elevated  by  Christianity  to  higher 
aims,  and  by  the  fancy  of  the  Greek  workmen  endowed  with 
brighter  forms.  And  this  art  the  reader  may  conceive  as  ex- 
tending in  its  various  branches  over  all  the  central  provinces 
of  the  empire,  taking  aspects  more  or  less  refined,  according 
to  its  proximity  to  the  seats  of  government ;  dependent  for 
all  its  power  on  the  vigor  and  freshness  of  the  religion  which 
animated  it ;  and  as  chat  vigor  and  purity  departed,  losing  its 
own  vitality,  and  sinking  into  nerveless  rest,  not  deprived  of 
its  beauty,  but  benumbed  and  incapable  of  advance  or  change. 

§  xxn.  Meantime  there  had  been  preparation  for  its  re- 
newal While  in  Rome  and  Constantinople,  and  in  the  dis- 
tricts under  their  immediate  influence,  this  Roman  art  of 
pure  descent  was  practised  in  all  its  refinement,  an  impure 
form  of  it — a  patois  of  Romanesque — was  carried  by  inferior 
workmen  into  distant  provinces  ;  and  still  ruder  imitations  of 
this  patois  were  executed  by  the  barbarous  nations  on  tha 

*  The  reader  will  find  the  tceak  point*  of  Byzantine  architecture 
shrewdly  seized,  and  exquisitely  sketched,  in  the  opening  chapter  of 
the  most  delightful  book  of  trar«l»  I  «v«r  opened, — Canon's  "Mom* 
teriM  of  the  Levant." 


SO  TEE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

skirts  of  the  empire.  But  these  barbarous  nations  were  in 
the  strength  of  their  youth ;  and  while,  in  the  centre  of 
Europe,  a  refined  and  purely  descended  art  was  sinking  into 
graceful  formalism,  on  its  confines  a  barbarous  and  borrowed 
art  was  organising  itself  into  strength  and  consistency.  The 
reader  must  therefore  consider  the  history  of  the  work  of  the 
period  as  broadly  divided  into  two  great  heads  :  the  one  em- 
bracing the  elaborately  languid  succession  of  the  Christian 
art  of  Home  ;  and  the  other,  the  imitations  of  it  executed  by 
nations  in  every  conceivable  phase  of  early  organisation,  on 
the  edges  of  the  empire,  or  included  in  its  now  merely 
nominal  extent. 

§  xxm.  Some  of  the  barbaric  nations  were,  of  course,  not 
susceptible  of  this  influence ;  and  when  they  burst  over  the 
Alps,  appear,  like  the  Huns,  as  scourges  only,  or  mix,  as  the 
Ostrogoths,  with  the  enervated  Italians,  and  give  physical 
strength  to  the  mass  with  which  they  mingle,  without  mate- 
rially affecting  its  intellectual  character.  But  others,  both 
south  and  north  of  the  empire,  had  felt  its  influence,  back  t« 
the  beach  of  the  Indian  Ocean  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  the 
ice  creeks  of  the  North  Sea  on  the  other.  On  the  north  and 
west  the  influence  was  of  the  Latins  ;  on  the  south  and  east, 
of  the  Greeks.  Two  nations,  pre-eminent  above  all  the  rest, 
represent  to  us  the  force  of  derived  mind  on  either  side.  As 
the  central  power  is  eclipsed,  the  orbs  of  reflected  light 
gather  into  their  fulness ;  and  when  sensuality  and  idolatry 
had  done  their  work,  and  the  religion  of  the  empire  was  laid 
asleep  in  a  glittering  sepulchre,  the  living  light  rose  upon 
both  horizons,  and  the  fierce  swords  of  the  Lombard  and 
Arab  were  shaken  oyer  its  golden  paralysis. 

§  xxiv.  The  work  of  the  Lombard  was  to  give  hardihood 
and  system  to  the  enervated  body  and  enfeebled  mind  of  Chris- 
tendom ;  that  of  the  Arab  was  to  punish  idolatry,  and  to 
proclaim  the  spirituality  of  worship.  The  Lombard  covered 
every  church  which  he  built  with  the  sculptured  representa- 
tions of  bodily  exercises — hunting  and  war.*  The  Arab  ban- 
ished all  imagination  of  creature  form  from  his  temples,  and 
*  Appendix  8.  "  The  Northern  Energy." 


THE   QUARRY  31 

proclaimed  from  their  minarets,  "  There  is  no  god  but  God." 
Opposite  in  their  character  and  mission,  alike  in  their  mag- 
nificence of  energy,  they  came  from  the  North  and  from  the 
South,  the  glacier  torrent  and  the  lava  stream  :  they  met  and 
contended  over  the  wreck  of  the  Koman  empire  ;  and  the  very 
centre  of  the  struggle,  the  point  of  pause  of  both,  the  dead 
water  of  the  opposite  eddies,  charged  with  embayed  fragments 
of  the  Roman  wreck,  is  VENICE. 

The  Ducal  palace  of  Venice  contains  the  three  elements  in 
exactly  equal  proportions — the  Roman,  Lombard,  and  Arab. 
It  is  the  central  building  of  the  world. 

§  xxv.  The  reader  will  now  begin  to  understand  something 
of  the  importance  of  the  study  of  the  edifices  of  a  city  which 
includes,  within  the  circuit  of  some  seven  or  eight  miles,  the 
field  of  contest  between  the  three  pre-eminent  architectures  of 
the  world  : — each  architecture  expressing  a  condition  of  re- 
ligion ;  each  an  erroneous  condition,  yet  necessary  to  the  cor- 
rection of  the  others,  and  corrected  by  them. 

§  XXVL  It  will  be  part  of  my  endeavor,  in  the  following  work, 
to  mark  the  various  modes  in  which  the  northern  and  southern 
architectures  were  developed  from  the  Roman  :  here  I  must 
pause  only  to  name  the  distinguishing  characteristics  of  the 
great  families.  The  Christian  Roman  and  Byzantine  work  is 
round-arched,  with  single  and  well-proportioned  shafts  ;  capi- 
tals imitated  from  classical  Roman  ;  mouldings  more  or  less 
so  ;  and  large  surfaces  of  walls  entirely  covered  with  imagery, 
mosaic,  and  paintings,  whether  of  scripture  history  or  of 
sacred  symbols. 

The  Arab  school  is  at  first  the  same  in  its  principal  features, 
the  Byzantine  workmen  being  employed  by  the  caliphs  ;  but 
the  Arab  rapidly  introduces  characters  half  Persepolitan,  hah* 
Egyptian,  into  the  shafts  and  capitals  :  in  his  intense  love  of 
excitement  he  points  the  arch  and  writhes  it  into  extravagant 
foliations  ;  he  banishes  the  animal  imagery,  and  invents  an 
ornamentation  of  his  own  (called  Arabesque)  to  replace  it : 
this  not  being  adapted  for  covering  large  surfaces,  he  concen- 
trates it  on  features  c "  interest,  and  bars  his  surfaces  with 
horizontal  lines  of  col3%  the  expression  of  the  level  o-f  the 


M  THE  STONfiS  OF  VENICE. 

Desert.     He  retains  the  dome,  and  adds  the  minaret.     All  ia 
done  with  exquisite  refinement. 

§  xxvii.  The  changes  effected  by  the  Lombard  are  more 
curious  still,  for  they  are  in  the  anatomy  of  the  building,  more 
than  its  decoration.  The  Lombard  architecture  represents, 
as  I  said,  the  whole  of  that  of  the  northern  barbaric  nation* 
And  this  I  believe  was,  at  first,  an  imitation  in  wood  of  the  Chris- 
tian Roman  churches  or  basilicas.  Without  staying  to  examine 
the  whole  structure  of  a  basilica,  the  reader  will  easily  under- 
stand thus  much  of  it :  that  it  had  a  nave  and  two  aisles,  the 
nave  much  higher  than  the  aisles  ;  that  the  nave  was  separated 
from  the  aisles  by  rows  of  shafts,  which  supported,  above, 
large  spaces  of  flat  or  dead  wall,  rising  above  the  aisles,  and 
forming  the  upper  part  of  the  nave,  now  called  the  clerestory, 
which  had  a  gabled  wooden  roof. 

These  high  dead  walls  were,  in  Roman  work,  built  of  stone ; 
but  in  the  wooden  work  of  the  North,  they  must  necessarily 
have  been  made  of  horizontal  boards  or  timbers  attached  to 
uprights  on  the  top  of  the  nave  pillars,  which  were  themselves 
also  of  wood,*  Now,  these  uprights  were  necessarily  thicker 
than  the  rest  of  the  timbers,  and  formed  vertical  square  pilas- 
ters above  the  nave  piers.  As  Christianity  extended  and  civi- 
lisation increased,  these  wooden  structures  were  changed  into 
stone ;  but  they  were  literally  petrified,  retaining  the  form 
which  had  been  made  necessary  by  their  being  of  wood.  The 
upright  pilaster  above  the  nave  pier  remains  in  the  stone  edi- 
fice, and  is  the  first  form  of  the  great  distinctive  feature  of 
Northern  architecture — the  vaulting  shaft.  In  that  form  the 
Lombards  brought  it  into  Italy,  in  the  seventh  century,  and 
it  remains  to  this  day  in  St.  Ambrogio  of  Milan,  and  St.  Mi- 
chel e  of  Pavia. 

§  xxvm.  When  the  vaulting  shaft  was  introduced  in  the 
clerestory  walls,  additional  members  were  added  for  its  sup- 
port to  the  nave  piers.  Perhaps  two  or  three  pine  trunks, 
used  for  a  single  pillar,  gave  the  first  idea  of  the  grouped 
shaft  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  arrangement  of  the  nave  pier 
in  the  form  of  a  cross  accompanies  the  superimposition  erf 
"  Appendix  9,  "  Wooden  Churches  of  the  North." 


THE  QUARRY.  3S 

the  vaulting  shaft ;  together  with  corresponding  grouping  of 
minor  shafts  in  doorways  and  apertures  of  windows.  Thus, 
the  whole  body  of  the  Northern  architecture,  represented  by 
that  of  the  Lombards,  may  be  described  as  rough  but  ma- 
jestic work,  round-arched,  with  grouped  shafts,  added  vault- 
ing shafts,  and  endless  imagery  of  active  life  and  fantastic 
superstitions. 

§  xxix.  The  glacier  stream  of  the  Lombards,  and  the  fol- 
lowing one  of  the  Normans,  left  their  erratic  blocks,  wher- 
ever they  had  flowed  ;  but  without  influencing,  I  think,  the 
Southern  nations  beyond  the  sphere  of  their  own  presence. 
But  the  lava  stream  of  the  Arab,  even  after  it  ceased  to  flow, 
warmed  the  whole  of  the  Northern  air ;  and  the  history  of 
Gothic  architecture  is  the  history  of  the  refinement  and  spir- 
itualisation  of  Northern  work  under  its  influence.  The  no- 
blest buildings  of  the  world,  the  Pisan -Romanesque,  Tuscan 
(Giottesque)  Gothic,  and  Veronese  Gothic,  are  those  of  the 
Lombard  schools  themselves,  under  its  close  and  direct  in- 
fluence  ;  the  various  Gothics  of  the  North  are  the  original 
forms  of  the  architecture  which  the  Lombards  brought  into 
ttaly,  changing  under  the  less  direct  influence  of  the  Arab. 

§  xxx.  Understanding  thus  much  of  the  formation  of  the 
great  European  styles,  we  shall  have  no  difficulty  in  tracing 
the  succession  of  architectures  in  Venice  herself.  From  what 
I  said  of  the  central  character  of  Venetian  art,  the  reader  is 
not,  of  course,  to  conclude  that  the  Roman,  Northern,  and 
Arabian  elements  met  together  and  contended  for  the  mastery 
at  the  same  period.  The  earliest  element  was  the  pure  Chris- 
tian Roman  ;  but  few,  if  any,  remains  of  this  art  exist  at 
Venice  ;  for  the  present  city  was  in  the  earliest  times  only 
one  of  many  settlements  formed  on  the  chain  of  marshy  islands 
which  extend  from  the  mouths  of  the  Isonzo  to  those  of  the 
Adige,  and  it  was  not  until  the  beginning  of  the  ninth  cent- 
ury that  it  became  the  seat  of  government ;  while  the  cathe- 
dral of  Torcello,  though  Christian  Roman  in  general  form, 
was  rebuilt  in  the  eleventh  century,  and  shows  evidence  oi 
Byzantine  workmanship  in  many  of  its  details.  This  cathe- 
dral, however,  with  the  church  of  Santa  Fosca  at  Torcello, 

VOL.L— a 


84  THE  STONES  OF   VEHT1GB. 

San  Giacomo  di  Rialto  at  Venice,  and  the  crypt  of  St.  Mark's, 
forms  a  distinct  group  of  buildings,  in  which  the  Byzantinfi 
influence  is  exceedingly  slight ;  and  which  is  probably  very 
sufficiently  representative  of  the  earliest  architecture  on  the 
islands. 

§  TYTCT.  The  Ducal  residence  was  removed  to  Venice  in  809, 
and  the  body  of  Si  Mark  was  brought  from  Alexandria  twenty 
years  later.  The  first  church  of  Si  Mark's  was,  doubtless, 
built  in  imitation  of  that  destroyed  at  Alexandria,  and  from 
which  the  relics  of  the  saint  had  been  obtained.  During  the 
ninth,  tenth,  and  eleventh  centuries,  the  architecture  of  Ven- 
ice seems  to  have  been  formed  on  the  same  model,  and  is 
almost  identical  with  that  of  Cairo  under  the  caliphs,*  it 
being  quite  immaterial  whether  the  reader  chooses  to  call 
both  Byzantine  or  both  Arabic  ;  the  workmen  being  certainly 
Byzantine,  but  forced  to  the  invention  of  new  forms  by  their 
Arabian  masters,  and  bringing  these  forms  into  use  in  what- 
ever other  parts  of  the  world  they  were  employed. 

To  this  first  manner  of  Venetian  architecture,  together  with 
such  vestiges  as  remain  of  the  Christian  Bx>man,  I  shall  de- 
vote the  first  division  of  the  following  inquiry.  The  examples 
remaining  of  it  consist  of  three  noble  churches  (those  of  Tor- 
cello,  Murano,  and  the  greater  part  of  Si  Mark's),  and  about 
ten  or  twelve  fragments  of  palaces. 

§  xxxn.  To  this  style  succeeds  a  transitional  one,  of  a  char- 
acter much  more  distinctly  Arabian  :  the  shafts  become  more 
slender,  and  the  arches  consistently  pointed,  instead  of  round ; 
certain  other  changes,  not  to  be  enumerated  in  a  sentence, 
taking  place  in  the  capitals  and  mouldings.  This  style  is  al- 
most exclusively  secular.  It  was  natural  for  the  Venetians  to 
imitate  the  beautiful  details  of  the  Arabian  dwelling-house, 
while  they  would  with  reluctance  adopt  those  of  the  mosque 
for  Christian  churches. 

I  have  not  succeeded  in  fixing  limiting  dates  for  this  style. 

It  appears  in  part  contemporary  with  the  Byzantine  manner^ 

but  outlives  ii     Its  position  is,  however,  fixed  by  the  central 

date,  1180,  that  of  the  elevation  of  the  granite  shafts  of  the 

*  Appendix  10,  "  Church  of  Alexandria." 


35 

Piazetta,  whose  capitals  are  the  two  most  important  pieces  of 
detail  in  this  transitional  style  in  Venice.  Examples  of  its  ap- 
plication to  domestic  buildings  exist  in  almost  every  street  of 
the  city,  and  will  form  the  subject  of  the  second  division  of 
the  following  essay. 

§  xxxin.  The  Venetians  were  always  ready  to  receive  les- 
sons in  art  from  their  enemies  (else  had  there  been  no  Arab 
work  in  Venice).  But  their  especial  dread  and  hatred  of  the 
Lombards  appears  to  have  long  prevented  them  from  receiv- 
ing the  influence  of  the  art  which  that  people  had  introduced 
on  the  mainland  of  Italy.  Nevertheless,  during  the  practice 
of  the  two  styles  above  distinguished,  a  peculiar  and  very 
primitive  condition  of  pointed  Gothic  had  arisen  in  ecclesias- 
tical architecture.  It  appears  to  be  a  feeble  reflection  of  the 
Lombard-Arab  forms,  which  were  attaining  perfection  upon 
the  continent,  and  would  probably,  if  left  to  itself,  have  been 
soon  merged  in  the  Venetian-Arab  school,  with  which  it  had 
from  the  first  so  close  a  fellowship,  that  it  will  be  found  diffi- 
cult to  distinguish  the  Arabian  ogives  from  those  which  seem  to 
have  been  built  under  this  early  Gothic  influence.  The  churches 
of  San  Giacopo  dell'  Orio,  San  Giovanni  in  Bragora,  the  Car- 
mine, and  one  or  two  more,  furnish  the  only  important  ex- 
amples of  it.  But,  in  the  thirteenth  century,  the  Franciscans 
and  Dominicans  Introduced  from  the  continent  their  morality 
and  their  architecture,  already  a  distinct  Gothic,  curiously 
developed  from  Lombardic  and  Northern  (German  ?)  forms ; 
and  the  influence  of  the  principles  exhibited  in  the  vast 
churches  of  St.  Paul  and  the  Frari  began  rapidly  to  affect  the 
Venetian-Arab  school.  Still  the  two  systems  never  became 
nnited  ;  the  Venetian  policy  repressed  the  power  of  the  church, 
and  the  Venetian  artists  resisted  its  example ;  and  thence- 
forward the  architecture  of  the  city  becomes  divided  into 
ecclesiastical  and  civil :  the  one  an  ungraceful  yet  powerful 
form  of  the  Western  Gothic,  common  to  the  whole  peninsula, 
and  only  showing  Venetian  sympathies  in  the  adoption  of 
certain  characteristic  mouldings  ;  the  other  a  rich,  luxuriant, 
and  entirely  original  Gothic,  formed  from  the  Venetiau-Arab 
by  the  influence  of  the  Dominican  and  Franciscan  architect 


8<J  TEE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

ore,  and  especially  by  the  engrafting  upon  the  Arab  forms  o 
the  most  novel  feature  of  the  Franciscan  work,  its  traceries 
These  various  forms  of  Gothic,  the  distinctive  architecture  oc< 
Venice,  chiefly  represented  by  the  churches  of  St.  John  and 
Paul,  the  Frari,  and  San  Stefano,  on  the  ecclesiastical  side, 
and  by  the  Ducal  palace,  and  the  other  principal  Gothic  pal- 
aces, on  the  secular  side,  will  be  the  subject  of  the  third  di 
vision  of  the  essay. 

§  xxxiv.  Now  observe.  The  transitional  (or  especially 
Arabic)  style  of  the  Venetian  work  is  centralised  by  the  date 
1180,  and  is  transformed  gradually  into  the  Gothic,  which  ex- 
tends in  its  purity  from  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  to  the 
beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century  ;  that  is  to  say,  over  the 
precise  period  which  I  have  described  as  the  central  epoch  of 
the  life  of  Venice.  I  dated  her  decline  from  the  year  1418  ; 
Foscari  became  doge  five  years  later,  and  in  his  reign  the  first 
marked  signs  appear  in  architecture  of  that  mighty  change 
which  Philippe  de  Commynes  notices  as  above,  the  change  td 
which  London  owes  St.  Paul's,  Rome  St.  Peter's,  Venice  and 
Vicenza  the  edifices  commonly  supposed  to  be  their  nobles^ 
and  Europe  in  general  the  degradation  of  every  art  she  has 
since  practised. 

§  xxxv.  This  change  appears  first  in  a  loss  of  truth  and  vi- 
tality in  existing  architecture  all  over  the  world.  (Compare 
"Seven  Lamps,"  chap.  iL).  All  the  Gothics  in  existence, 
southern  or  northern,  were  corrupted  at  once :  the  German 
and  French  lost  themselves  in  every  species  of  extravagance ; 
the  English  Gothic  was  confined,  in  its  insanity,  by  a  strait- 
waistcoat  of  perpendicular  lines ;  the  Italian  effloresced  on 
the  mainland  into  the  meaningless  ornamentation  of  the  Cer- 
tosa  of  Pavia  and  the  Cathedral  of  Corno  (a  style  sometimes 
ignorantly  called  Italian  Gothic),  and  at  Venice  into  the  in- 
sipid confusion  of  the  Porta  della  Carta  and  wild  crockets  ot 
St.  Mark's.  This  corruption  of  all  architecture,  especially 
ecclesiastical,  corresponded  with,  and  marked  the  state  of  re- 
ligion over  all  Europe, — the  peculiar  degradation  of  the  Bo 
manist  superstition,  and  of  public  morality  in  consequence 
trhich  brought  about  the  Iteiormatioc. 


THE  QUARRY.  87 

§  XXXVL  Against  the  corrupted  papacy  arose  two  greaf 
divisions  of  adversaries,  Protestants  in  Germany  and  Eng- 
land, Rationalists  in  France  and  Italy  ;  the  one  requiring  the 
purification  of  religion,  the  other  its  destruction.  The  Pro- 
testant kept  the  religion,  but  cast  aside  the  heresies  of  Rome, 
and  with  them  her  arts,  by  which  last  rejection  he  injured  his1 
own  character,  cramped  his  mtellect  in  refusing  to  it  one  of 
its  noblest  exercises,  and  materially  diminished  his  influence, 
It  may  be  a  serious  question  how  far  the  Pausing  of  the  Re- 
formation has  been  a  consequence  of  this  error. 

The  Rationalist  kept  the  arts  and  cast  aside  the  religion. 
This  rationalistic  art  is  the  art  commonly  called  Renaissance, 
marked  by  a  return  to  pagan  systems,  not  to  adopt  them  anO- 
hallow  them  for  Christianity,  but  to  rank  itself  under  them  af 
an  imitator  and  pupil  In  Painting  it  is  headed  by  Giulic 
Romano  and  Nicolo  Poussin ;  in  Architecture  by  Sansovinc 
and  Palladio. 

§  xxxvu.  Instant  degradation  followed  in  every  direction,— 
ft  flood  of  folly  and  hypocrisy.  Mythologies  ill  understood 
at  first,  then  perverted  into  feeble  sensualities,  take  the  place 
of  the  representations  of  Christian  subjects,  which  had  be- 
come blasphemous  under  the  treatment  of  men  like  the  Ca- 
raccL  Gods  without  power,  satyrs  without  rusticity,  nymphe 
without  innocence,  men  without  humanity,  gather  into  idiot 
groups  upon  the  polluted  canvas,  and  scenic  affectations  en- 
cumber the  streets  with  preposterous  marble.  Lower  and 
lower  declines  the  level  of  abused  intellect ;  the  base  school 
of  landscape*  gradually  usurps  the  place  of  the  historical 
painting,  which  had  sunk  into  prurient  pedantry, — the  Alsa- 
tian sublimities  of  Salvator,  the  confection  ery  idealities  of 
Claude,  the  dull  manufacture  of  Gaspar  and  Canaletto,  south 
ft  the  Alps,  and  on  the  north  the  patient  devotion  of  besotted 
lives  to  delineation  of  bricks  and  fogs,  fnt  cattle  and  ditch- 
water.  And  thus  Christianity  and  morality,  courage,  and 
Intellect,  and  art  all  crumbling  together  into  one  wreck,  wt 
are  hurried  on  to  the  fall  of  Italy,  the  revolution  in  Franc* 

*  Appendix  il,  "  RenaJBfianoe 


38  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

and  the  condition  of  art  in  England  (saved  by  her  Protestant 
ism  from  severer  penalty)  in  the  time  of  George  IL 

§  xxxvm.  I  have  not  written  in  vain  if  I  have  heretofore 
dpne  anything  towards  diminishing  the  reputation  of  the  Re- 
naissance landscape  painting.  But  the  harm  which  has  been 
done  by  Claude  and  the  Poussins  is  as  nothing  when  com- 
pared  to  the  mischief  effected  by  Palladio,  Scamozzi,  and 
Sansovino.  Claude  and  the  Poussins  were  weak  men,  and 
have  had  no  serious  influence  on  the  general  mind.  There  is 
little  harm  in  their  works  being  purchased  at  high  prices . 
their  real  influence  is  very  slight,  and  they  may  be  left  with- 
out grave  indignation  to  their  poor  mission  of  furnishing 
drawing-rooms  and  assisting  stranded  conversation.  Not  so 
the  Renaissance  architecture.  Raised  at  once  into  all  the 
magnificence  of  which  it  was  capable  by  Michael  Angelo,  then 
taken  up  by  men  of  real  intellect  and  imagination,  such  as 
Scamozzi,  Sansovino,  Inigo  Jones,  and  Wren,  it  is  impossible 
to  estimate  the  extent  of  its  influence  on  the  European  mind ; 
and  that  the  more,  because  few  persons  are  concerned  with 
painting,  and,  of  those  few,  the  larger  number  regard  it  with 
sh'ght  attention  ;  but  all  men  are  concerned  with  architecture, 
and  have  at  some  time  of  their  lives  serious  business  with  it. 
It  does  not  much  matter  that  an  individual  loses  two  or  three 
htmdred  pounds  in  buying  a  bad  picture,  but  it  is  to  be  re- 
gretted that  a  nation  should  lose  two  or  three  hundred  thou- 
sand in  raising  a  ridiculous  building.  Nor  is  it  merely  wasted 
wealth  or  distempered  conception  which  we  have  to  regret  ID 
this  Renaissance  architecture  :  but  we  shall  find  in  it  partly 
the  root,  partly  the  expression,  of  certain  dominant  evils  of 
modern  times — over-sophistication  and  ignorant  classicalism ; 
the  one  destroying  the  healthfulness  of  general  society,  the 
other  rendering  our  schools  and  universities  useless  to  a  large 
number  of  the  men  who  pass  through  them. 

Now  Venice,  as  she  was  once  the  most  religious,  was  in  hei 
fall  the  most  corrupt,  of  European  states  ;  and  as  she  was  in 
her  strength  the  centre  of  the  pure  currents  of  Christian  archi- 
tecture, so  she  is  in  her  decline  the  source  of  the  Renaissance 
It  wa«  the  originality  and  ypleudor  of  the  Palaces  of  Yicenza 


TRE  QUARST.  89 

and  Venice  which  gave  this  school  its  eminence  in  the  eyes  ol 
Europe  ;  and  the  dying  city,  magnificent  in  her  dissipation, 
and  graceful  in  her  follies,  obtained  wider  worship  in  her  de- 
crepitude than  in  her  youth,  and  sank  from  the  midst  of  her 
admirers  into  the  grave. 

§  xxxix.  It  is  in  Venice,  therefore,  and  in  Venice  only  that 
effectual  blows  can  be  struck  at  this  pestilent  art  of  the  Renais- 
sance. Destroy  its  claims  to  admiration  there,  and  it  can  as- 
sert them  nowhere  else.  This,  therefore,  will  be  the  final  pur- 
pose of  the  following  essay.  I  shall  not  devote  a  fourth  section 
to  Palladio,  nor  weary  the  reader  with  successive  chapters  of 
virtuperation  ;  but  I  shall,  in  my  account  of  the  earlier  archi- 
tecture, compare  the  forms  of  all  its  leading  features  with 
those  into  which  they  were  corrupted  by  the  Classicalists ;  and 
pause,  in  the  close,  on  the  edge  of  the  precipice  of  decline,  so 
soon  as  I  have  made  its  depths  discernible.  In  doing  this  I 
shall  depend  upon  two  distinct  kinds  of  evidence  : — the  first, 
the  testimony  borne  by  particular  incidents  and  facts  to  a 
want  of  thought  or  of  feeling  in  the  builders  ;  from  which  we 
may  conclude  that  their  architecture  must  be  bad : — the  sec- 
ond, the  sense,  which  I  doubt  not  I  shall  be  able  to  excite  in 
the  reader,  of  a  systematic  ugliness  in  the  architecture  itself. 
Of  the  first  kind  of  testimony  I  shall  here  give  two  instances, 
which  may  be  immediately  useful  in  fixing  in  the  reader's  mind 
the  epoch  above  indicated  for  the  commencement  of  decline. 

§  XL.  I  must  again  refer  to  the  importance  which  I  have 
above  attached  to  the  death  of  Carlo  Zeno  and  the  doge  To- 
maso  Mocenigo.  The  tomb  of  that  doge  is,  as  I  said,  wrought 
by  a  Florentine  ;  but  it  is  of  the  same  general  type  and  feel- 
ing as  all  the  Venetian  tombs  of  the  period,  and  it  is  one  of  the 
the  last  which  retains  it.  The  classical  element  enters  largely 
into  its  details,  but  the  feeling  of  the  whole  is  as  yet  unaf- 
fected. Like  all  the  lovely  tombs  of  Venice  and  Verona,  it  is 
a  sarcophagus  with  a  recumbent  figure  above,  and  this  figure 
is  a  faithful  but  tender  portrait,  wrought  as  far  as  it  can  be 
without  painfulness,  of  the  doge  as  he  lay  in  death.  He  wears 
iu's  ducal  robe  and  bonnet — his  head  \s  laid  slightly  aside  upon 
his  pillow — his  hands  are  simply  crossed  as  they  fall.  TL* 


40  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

face  is  emaciated,  the  features  large,  but  so  pure  and  lordly 
in  their  natural  chiselling,  that  they  must  have  looked  like 
marble  even  in  their  animation.  They  are  deeply  worn  away 
by  thought  and  death  ;  the  veins  on  the  temples  branched  and 
starting ;  the  skin  gathered  in  sharp  folds  ;  the  brow  high- 
arched  and  shaggy  ;  the  eye-ball  magnificently  large  ;  the 
curve  of  the  lips  just  veiled  by  the  light  mustache  at  the  side ; 
the  beard  short,  double,  and  sharp-pointed :  all  noble  and 
quiet ;  the  white  sepulchral  dust  marking  like  light  the  stern 
angles  of  the  cheek  and  brow. 

This  tomb  was  sculptured  in  1424,  and  is  thus  described  by 
one  of  the  most  intelligent  of  the  recent  writers  who  represent 
the  popular  feeling  respecting  Venetian  art. 

"  Of  the  Italian  school  is  also  the  rich  but  ugly  (ricco  ma 
non  bel)  sarcophagus  in  which  repose  the  ashes  of  Tomaso 
Mocenigo.  It  may  be  called  one  of  the  last  links  which  con- 
nect the  declining  art  of  the  Middle  Ages  with  that  of  the 
Renaissance,  which  was  in  its  rise.  We  will  not  stay  to  ^..ir- 
ticularise  the  defects  of  each  of  the  seven  figures  of  the  front 
and  sides,  which  represent  the  cardinal  and  theological  virtues ; 
nor  will  we  make  any  remarks  upon  those  which  stand  in  the 
Diches  above  the  pavilion,  because  we  consider  them  unworthy 
both  ol  the  age  and  reputation  of  the  Florentine  school,  which 
was  then  with  reason  considered  the  most  notable  in  Italy."  * 

It  is  well,  indeed,  not  to  pause  over  these  defects  ;  but  it 
might  have  been  better  to  have  paused  a  moment  beside  that 
noble  image  of  a  king's  mortality. 

§  XLI.  In  the  choir  of  the  same  church,  St.  Giov.  and  Paolo, 
is  another  tomb,  that  of  the  Doge  Andrea  Vendramin.  This 
doge  died  in  1478,  after  a  short  reign  of  two  years,  the  most 
disastrous  in  the  annals  of  Venice.  He  died  of  a  pestilence 
which  followed  the  ravage  of  the  Turks,  carried  to  the  shores 
of  the  lagoons.  He  died,  leaving  Venice  disgraced  by  sea  and 
land,  with  the  smoke  of  hostile  devastation  rising  in  the  blue 
distances  of  Friuli ;  and  there  was  raised  to  him  the  most 
costly  tomb  ever  bestowed  on  her  monarchs. 

§  YT.TT.  If  the  writer  above  quoted  was  cold  beside  the 
*  Selvatico,  '•  Architettura  di  Venezia,"  p.  147. 


T£fS  QUAXRT.  41 

atatue  of  one  of  the  fathers  of  his  country,  he  atones  for  it  by 
his  eloquence  beside  the  tomb  of  the  Vendramin.  I  must  not 
spoil  the  force  of  Italian  superlative  by  translation. 

"  Quando  si  guarda  a  quella  corretta  eleganza  di  profili  e  di 
proporzioni,  a  quella  squisitezza  d'ornamenti,  a  quel  certo  sa- 
pore  antico  che  senza  ombra  d'imitazione  traspare  da  tutta 
1'opera  " — &c.  "  Sopra,  omatissimo  zoccolo  fornito  di  squisiti 
intagli  s'  alza  uno  stylobate  " — &c.  "  Sotto  le  colonne,  il  pre- 
detto  stilobate  si  muta  leggindramente  in  piedistallo,  poi  con 
bella  novita  di  pensiero  e  di  effetto  va  coronato  da  un  fregio  il 
piu  gentile  che  veder  si  possa  " — &c.  "  Non  puossi  lasciar  senza 
un  cenno  1'  area  dove  sta  chiuso  il  doge  ;  capo  lavoro  di  pensi- 
ero e  di  esecuzione,"  &c. 

There  are  two  pages  and  a  half  of  closely  printed  praise,  of 
which  the  above  specimens  may  suffice ;  but  there  is  not  a 
word  of  the  statue  of  the  dead  from  beginning  to  end.  I  am 
myself  in  the  habit  of  considering  this  rather  an  important 
part  of  a  tomb,  and  I  was  especially  interested  in  it  here,  be- 
cause Selvatico  only  echoes  the  praise  of  thousands.  It  if 
unanimously  declared  the  chef  d'oeuvre  of  Renaissance  sepul- 
chral work,  and  pronounced  by  Cicognara  (also  quoted  by 
Selvatico) 

"  n  vertice  a  cui  1'  arti  Veneziane  si  spinsero  col  ministera 
del  scalpello," — "  The  very  culminating  point  to  which  the  Ve- 
netian arts  attained  by  ministry  of  the  chisel." 

To  this  culminating  point,  therefore,  covered  with  dust  and 
cobwebs,  I  attained,  as  I  did  to  every  tomb  of  importance  in 
Venice,  by  the  ministry  of  such  ancient  ladders  as  were  to  be 
found  in  the  sacristan's  keeping.  I  was  struck  at  first  by  the 
excessive  awkwardness  and  want  of  feeling  in  the  fall  of  the 
hand  towards  the  spectator,  for  it  is  thrown  off  the  middle  of 
the  body  in  order  to  show  its  fine  cutting.  Now  the  Moce- 
nigo  hand,  severe  and  even  stiff  in  its  articulations,  has  its 
veins  finely  drawn,  its  sculptor  having  justly  felt  that  the  deli- 
cacy of  the  veining  expresses  alike  dignity  and  age  and  birth. 
The  Vendramin  hand  is  far  more  laboriously  cut,  but  ite  blunt 


42  THE  STONES  OF   VBNIOS. 

and  clumsy  contour  at  once  makes  us  feel  that  all  the  care  has 
been  thrown  away,  and  well  it  may  be,  for  it  has  been  entirely 
bestowed  in  cutting  gouty  wrinkles  about  the  joints.  Such  as 
the  hand  is,  I  looked  for  its  fellow.  At  first  I  thought  it  had 
been  broken  off,  but,  on  clearing  away  the  dust,  I  saw  the 
wretched  effigy  had  only  one  hand,  and  was  a  mere  block  on 
the  inner  side.  The  face,  heavy  and  disagreeable  in  its  feat- 
ures, is  made  monstrous  by  its  semi-sculpture.  One  side  ot 
the  forehead  is  wrinkled  elaborately,  the  other  left  smooth  ; 
one  side  only  of  the  doge's  cap  is  chased  ;  one  cheek  only  is 
finished,  and  the  other  blocked  out  and  distorted  besides ; 
finally,  the  ermine  robe,  which  is  elaborately  imitated  to  its 
utmost  lock  of  hair  and  of  ground  hair  on  the  one  side,  is 
blocked  out  only  on  the  other  :  it  having  been  supposed 
throughout  the  work  that  *he  effigy  was  only  to  be  seen  from 
below,  and  from  one  side. 

§  xun.  It  was  indeed  to  be  so  seen  by  nearly  every  one  ; 
and  I  do  not  blame — I  should,  on  the  contrary,  have  praised 
— the  sculptor  for  regulating  his  treatment  of  it  by  its  posi- 
tion ;  if  that  treatment  had  not  involved,  first,  dishonesty,  in 
giving  only  half  a  face,  a  monstrous  mask,  when  we  demanded 
true  portraiture  of  the  dead ;  and,  secondly,  such  utter  cold- 
ness of  feeling,  as  could  only  consist  with  an  extreme  of  intel- 
lectual and  moral  degradation :  Who,  with  a  heart  in  hia 
breast,  could  have  stayed  his  hand  as  he  drew  the  dim  lines  of 
the  old  man's  countenance — unmajestic  once,  indeed,  but  at 
least  sanctified  by  the  solemnities  of  death — could  have  stayed 
his  hand,  as  he  reached  the  bend  of  the  grey  forehead,  and 
measured  out  the  last  veins  of  it  at  so  much  the  zecchin  ? 

I  do  not  think  the  reader,  if  he  has  feeling,  will  expect  that 
much  talent  should  be  shown  in  the  rest  of  his  work,  by  the 
sculptor  of  this  base  and  senseless  lie.  The  whole  monument 
is  one  wearisome  aggregation  of  that  species  of  ornamental 
flourish,  which,  when  it  is  done  with  a  pen,  is  called  penman- 
ship, and  when  done  with  a  chisel,  should  be  called  chisel- 
manship ;  the  subject  of  it  being  chiefly  fat-limbed  boys  sprawl- 
ing on  dolphins,  dolphins  incapable  of  swimming,  and  dragged 
along  ike  sea  by  expanded  pocket-handkerchiefs. 


THE  QUARRY.  43 

But  noTT,  reader,  comes  the  very  gist  and  point  of  the  whole 
matter.  This  lying  monument  to  a  dishonored  doge,  this 
culminating  pride  of  the  Renaissance  art  of  Venice,  is  at  least 
reracious,  if  in  nothing  else,  in  its  testimony  to  the  character 
of  its  sculptor.  He  was  banished  from  Venice  for  forgery  in 
1487.* 

§  xuv.  I  have  more  to  say  about  this  convict's  work  here- 
after ;  but  I  pass  at  present,  to  the  second,  slighter,  but  yat 
more  interesting  piece  of  evidence,  which  I  promised. 

The  ducal  palace  has  two  principal  fayades  ;  one  towards 
the  sea,  the  other  towards  the  Piazzetta.  The  seaward  side, 
and,  as  far  as  the  seventh  main  arch  inclusive,  the  Piazzetta 
side,  is  work  of  the  early  part  of  the  fourteenth  century,  some 
of  it  perhaps  even  earlier  ;  while  the  rest  of  the  Piazzetta  side 
is  of  the  fifteenth.  The  difference  in  age  has  been  gravely  dis- 
puted by  the  Venetian  antiquaries,  who  have  examined  many 
documents  on  the  subject,  and  quoted  some  which  they 
.never  examined.  I  have  myself  collated  most  of  the  written 
documents,  and  one  document  more,  to  which  the  Venetian 
antiquaries  never  thought  of  referring, — the  masonry  of  the 
palace  itself. 

§  XLV.  That  masonry  changes  at  the  centre  of  the  eighth 
arch  from  the  sea  angle  on  the  Piazzetta  side.  It  has  been 
of  comparatively  small  stones  up  to  that  point ;  the  fifteenth 
century  work  instantly  begins  with  larger  stones,  "  brought 
from  Istria,  a  hundred  miles  away."  j-  The  ninth  shaft  from 
the  sea  in  the  lower  arcade,  and  the  seventeenth,  which  is 
above  it,  in  the  upper  arcade,'  commence  the  series  of  fif- 
teenth century  shafts.  These  two  are  somewhat  thicker  than 
the  others,  and  carry  the  party-wall  of  the  Sala  del  Scrutinio. 
Now  observe,  reader.  The  face  of  the  palace,  from  this  point 
to  the  Porta  della  Carta,  was  built  at  the  instance  of  that 
noble  Doge  Mocenigo  beside  whose  tomb  you  have  been 
standing ;  at  his  instance,  and  in  the  beginning  of  the  reign 
"of  his  successor,  Foscari ;  that  is  to  say,  circa  1424.  This  is 
not  disputed  ;  it  is  only  disputed  that  the  sea  fa9ade  is  earlier; 

*  Selyatico,  p.  221. 

f  The  old«r  work  is  of  Istrian  stone  also,  but  of  different  quality 


44  THE  STONES  Of   VENICE. 

of  which,  however,  the  proofs  are  as  simple  as  they  are  incon- 
trovertible  :  for  not  only  the  masonry,  but  the  sculpture, 
changes  at  the  ninth  lower  shaft,  and  that  in  the  capitals  of 
the  shafts  both  of  the  upper  and  lower  arcade  :  the  costumes 
of  the  figures  introduced  in  the  sea  facade  being  purely  Giot- 
tesque,  correspondent  with  Giotto's  work  in  the  Arena  Chapel 
at  Padua,  while  the  costume  on  the  other  capitals  is  Renais- 
sance-Classic :  and  the  lions'  heads  between  the  arches  change 
at  the  same  point.  And  there  are  a  multitude  of  other  evi- 
dences in  the  statues  of  the  angels,  with  which  I  shall  not  at 
present  trouble  the  reader. 

§  XLVL  Now,  the  architect  who  built  under  Foscari,  in  1424 
(remember  my  date  for  the  decline  of  Venice,  1418),  was 
obliged  to  follow  the  principal  forms  of  the  older  palace.  But 
he  had  not  the  wit  to  invent  new  capitals  in  the  same  style  ; 
he  therefore  clumsily  copied  the  old  ones.  The  palace  has 
seventeen  main  arches  on  the  sea  fa9ade,  eighteen  on  the 
Piazzetta  side,  which  in  all  are  of  course  carried  by  thirty-six 
pillars  ;  and  these  pillars  I  shall  always  number  from  right  to 
left,  from  the  angle  of  the  palace  at  the  Ponte  della  Paglia  to 
that  next  the  Porta  della  Carta.  I  number  them  in  this  suc- 
cession, because  I  thus  have  the  earliest  shafts  first  numbered. 
So  counted,  the  1st,  the  18th,  and  the  36fch,  are  the  great 
supports  of  the  angles  of  the  palace  ;  and  the  first  of  the  fif- 
teenth century  series,  being,  as  above  stated,  the  9th  from  the 
sea  on  the  Piazzetta  side,  is  the  26th  of  the  entire  series,  and 
will  always  in  future  be  so  numbered,  so  that  all  numbers 
above  twenty-six  indicate  fifteenth  century  work,  and  all  below 
it,  fourteenth  century,  with  some  exceptional  cases  of  restora- 
tion. 

Then  the  copied  capitals  are  :  the  28th,  copied  from  the 
7th  ;  the  29th,  from  the  9th ;  the  30th,  from  the  10th  ;  the 
31st,  from  the  8th  ;  the  33d,  from  the  12th  ;  and  the  34th, 
from  the  llth ;  the  others  being  dull  inventions  of  the  15th 
century,  except  the  36th,  which  is  very  nobly  designed. 

§  XLVH.  The  capitals  thus  selected  from  the  earlier  portion 
of  the  palace  for  imitation,  together  with  the  rest,  will  be  ao- 
ourately  described  hereafter  ;  the  point  I  have  here  to  notice 


THE  QUARR7.  45 

is  in  tne  copy  of  the  ninth  capital,  which  was  decorated  (being$ 
like  the  rest,  octagonal)  with  figures  of  the  eight  Virtues  : — • 
Faith,  Hope,  Charity,  Justice,  Temperance,  Prudence,  Humil- 
ity (the  Venetian  antiquaries  call  it  Humanity  !),  and  Forti- 
tude. The  Virtues  of  the  fourteenth  century  are  somewhat 
hard-featured  ;  with  vivid  and  living  expression,  and  plain 
every-day  clothes  of  the  time.  Charity  has  her  lap  full  of 
apples  (perhaps  loaves),  and  is  giving  one  to  a  little  child,  who 
stretches  his  arm  for  it  across  a  gap  in  the  leafage  of  the  capi- 
tal. Fortitude  tears  open  a  lion's  jaws  ;  Faith  lays  her  hand 
on  her  breast,  as  she  beholds  the  Cross  ;  and  Hope  is  praying, 
while  above  her  a  hand  is  seen  emerging  from  sunbeams — the 
hand  of  God  (according  to  that  of  Eevelations,  "  The  Lord  God 
giveth  them  light ")  ;  and  the  inscription  above  is,  "  Spes  op- 
tima in  Deo." 

§  XLVIII.  This  design,  then,  is,  rudely  and  with  imperfect 
chiselling,  imitated  by  the  fifteenth  century  workmen  :  the 
Virtues  have  lost  their  hard  features  and  living  expression; 
they  have  now  all  got  Koman  noses,  and  have  had  their  hair 
curled.  Their  actions  and  emblems  are,  however,  preserved 
until  we  come  to  Hope  :  she  is  still  praying,  but  she  is  pray- 
ing to  the  sun  only  :  The  hand  of  God  is  gone. 

Is  not  this  a  curious  and  striking  type  of  the  spirit  which 
had  then  become  dominant  in  the  world,  forgetting  to  see 
God's  hand  in  the  light  He  gave  ;  so  that  in  the  issue,  when 
that  light  opened  into  the  Reformation  on  the  one  side,  and 
into  full  knowledge  of  ancient  literature  on  the  other,  the  one 
was  arrested  and  the  other  perverted  ? 

§  XLIX.  Such  is  the  nature  of  the  accidental  evidence  on 
which  I  shall  depend  for  the  proof  of  the  inferiority  of  charac- 
ter in  the  Renaissance  workmen.  But  the  proof  of  the  infe- 
riority of  the  work  itself  is  not  so  easy,  for  in  this  I  have  to 
appeal  to  judgments  which  the  Renaissance  work  has  itself  dis- 
torted. I  felt  this  difficulty  very  forcibly  as  I  read  a  slight 
review  of  my  former  work,  "  The  Seven  Lamps,"  in  "  The 
Architect : "  the  writer  noticed  my  constant  praise  of  Si 
Mark's  :  "  Mr.  Ruskin  thinks  it  a  very  beautiful  building  ! 
We,"  said  the  Architect,  "  think  it  a  very  ugly  building."  I 


46  TEE  STONES  OP   VENIOB. 

was  not  surprised  at  the  difference  of  opinion,  but  at  the  thing 
being  consided  so  completely  a  subject  of  opinion.  My  op- 
ponents in  matters  of  painting  always  assume  that  there  u 
such  a  thing  as  a  law  of  right,  and  that  I  do  not  understand  it : 
but  my  architechml  adversaries  appeal  to  no  law,  they  simply 
*et  their  opinion  against  mine  ;  and  indeed  there  is  no  law  at 
present  to  which  either  they  or  I  can  appeal  No  man  can 
speak  with  rational  decision  of  the  merits  or  demerits  of  build- 
ings :  he  may  with  obstinacy  ;  he  may  with  resolved  adherence 
to  previous  prejudices  ;  but  never  as  if  the  matter  could  be 
otherwise  decided  than  by  a  majority  of  votes,  or  pertinacity 
of  partizanship.  I  had  always,  however,  a  clear  conviction  that 
there  was  a  law  in  this  matter  :  that  good  architecture  might 
be  indisputably  discerned  and  divided  from  the  bad  ;  that  the 
opposition  in  their  very  nature  and  essence  was  clearly  visible; 
and  that  we  were  all  of  us  just  as  unwise  in  disputing  aboui 
the  matter  without  reference  to  principle,  as  we  should  be  for 
debating  about  the  genuineness  of  a  coin,  without  ringing  it. 
I  felt  also  assured  that  this  law  must  be  universal  if  it  were 
conclusive  ;  that  it  must  enable  us  to  reject  all  foolish  and  base 
work,  and  to  accept  all  noble  and  wise  work,  without  reference 
to  style  or  national  feeling  ;  that  it  must  sanction  the  design 
of  all  truly  great  nations  and  times,  Gothic  or  Greek  or  Arab ; 
that  it  must  cast  off  and  reprobate  the  design  of  all  foolish 
nations  and  times,  Chinese  or  Mexican,  or  modern  European : 
and  that  it  must  be  easily  applicable  to  all  possible  architec- 
tural inventions  of  human  mind.  I  set  myself,  therefore,  tc 
establish  such  a  law,  in  full  belief  that  men  are  intended,  with- 
out excessive  difficulty,  and  by  use  of  their  general  common 
sense,  to  know  good  things  from  bad  ;  and  that  it  is  only  be* 
cause  they  will  not  be  at  the  pains  required  for  the  discern- 
ment,  that  the  world  is  so  widely  encumbered  with  forgeries 
and  basenesses.  I  found  the  work  simpler  than  I  had  hoped  ; 
the  reasonable  things  ranged  themselves  in  the  order  I  re- 
quired, and  the  foolish  things  fell  aside,  and  took  themselveg 
away  so  soon  as  they  were  looked  in  the  face.  I  had  then, 
with  respect  to  Venetian  architecture,  the  choice,  either  to  es- 
tabliah  each  division  of  law  in  a  separate  form,  as  I  came  to  the 


THE  QUARRY.  47 

features  with  which  it  was  concerned,  or  else  to  ask  the  read* 
er's  patience,  while  I  followed  out  the  general  inquiry  first, 
and  determined  with  him  a  code  of  right  and  wrong,  to  which 
we  might  together  make  retrospective  appeal.  I  thought  thig 
the  best,  though  perhaps  the  dullest  way  ;  and  in  these  first 
following  pages  I  have  therefore  endeavored  to  arrange  those 
foundations  of  criticism,  on  which  I  shall  rest  in  my  account 
of  Venetian  architecture,  in  a  form  clear  and  simple  enough  to 
be  intelligible  even  to  those  who  never  thought  of  architecture 
before.  To  thos«  who  have,  much  of  what  is  stated  in  them 
wiU  be  well  known  or  self-evident ;  but  they  must  not  be  in- 
dignant at  a  simplicity  on  which  the  whole  argument  depend* 
for  its  usefulness.  From  that  which  appears  a  mere  truism 
when  first  stated,  they  will  find  very  singular  consequences 
sometimes  following, — consequences  altogether  unexpected, 
and  of  considerable  importance  ;  I  will  not  pause  here  to  dwell 
on  their  importance,  nor  on  that  of  the  thing  itself  to  be  done ; 
for  I  believe  most  readers  will  at  once  admit  the  value  of  a 
criterion  of  right  and  wrong  in  so  practical  and  costly  an  art 
as  architecture,  and  will  be  apt  rather  to  doubt  the  possibility 
of  its  attainment  than  dispute  its  usefulness  if  attained.  I  in- 
vite them,  therefore,  to  a  fair  trial,  being  certain  that  even  if  I 
should  fail  in  my  main  purpose,  and  be  unable  to  induce  in  my 
reader  the  confidence  of  judgment  I  desire,  I  shall  at  least  re- 
ceive his  thanks  for  the  suggestion  of  consistent  reasons,  which 
may  determine  hesitating  choice,  or  justify  involuntary  prefer- 
ence. And  if  I  should  succeed,  as  I  hope,  in  making  the 
Stones  of  Venice  touchstones,  and  detecting,  by  the  moulder- 
ing of  her  marble,  poison  more  subtle  than  ever  was  betrayed 
by  the  rending  of  her  crystal ;  and  if  thus  I  am  enabled  to 
show  the  baseness  of  the  schools  of  architecture  and  nearly 
every  other  art,  which  have  for  three  centuries  been  predomi- 
nant in  Europe,  I  believe  the  re»ult  of  the  inquiry  may  be  ser- 
viceable for  proof  of  a  more  vital  truth  than  any  at  which  I 
have  hitherto  hinted.  For  observe  :  I  said  the  Protestant  had 
despised  the  arts,  and  the  Rationalist  corrupted  them.  But 
what  has  the  Romanist  done  meanwhile  ?  He  boasts  that  it 
was  the  papacy  which  raised  the  arts  ;  why  could  it  not  sup 


*8  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

port  them  when  it  was  left  to  its  own  strength  ?  How  came 
it  to  yield  to  Classicalism  which  was  based  on  infidelity,  and 
to  oppose  no  barrier  to  innovations,  which  have  reduced  the 
once  faithfully  conceived  imagery  of  its  worship  to  stage  deco- 
ration ?  Shall  we  not  rather  find  that  Romanism,  instead  of 
being  a  promoter  of  the  arts,  has  never  shown  itself  capable  of 
a  single  great  conception  since  the  separation  of  Protestantism 
from  its  side  ?  *  So  long  as,  corrupt  though  it  might  be,  no 
clear  witness  had  been  borne  against  it,  so  that  it  still  included 
in  its  ranks  a  vast  number  of  faithful  Christians,  so  long  its 
arts  were  noble.  But  the  witness  was  borne — the  error  made 
apparent ;  and  Rome  refusing  to  hear  the  testimony  or  forsake 
the  falsehood,  has  been  struck  from  that  instant  with  an  intel- 
lectual palsy,  which  has  not  only  incapacitated  her  from  any 
further  use  of  the  arts  which  once  were  her  ministers,  but  has 
made  her  worship  the  shame  of  its  own  shrines,  and  her  wor- 
shippers their  destroyers.  Come,  then,  if  truths  such  as  these 
are  worth  our  thoughts  ;  come,  and  let  us  know,  before  we 
enter  the  streets  of  the  Sea  city,  whether  we  are  indeed  to  sub- 
mit ourselves  to  their  undistinguished  enchantment,  and  to 
look  upon  the  last  changes  which  were  wrought  on  the  lifted 
forms  of  her  palaces,  as  we  should  on  the  capricious  towering 
of  summer  clouds  in  the  sunset,  ere  they  sank  into  the  deep 
of  night  ;  or  whether,  rather,  we  shall  not  behold  in  the  bright- 
ness of  their  accumulated  marble,  pages  on  which  the  sentence 
of  her  luxury  was  to  be  written  until  the  waves  should  efface 
it,  as  they  fulfilled — "  God  has  numbered  thy  kingdom,  and 
finished  it" 


CHAPTER  IL 

THB   VIRTUES   OF    ABCHFTECTUBK. 

§  i.  We  address  ourselves,  then,  first  to  the  task  of  deter- 
mining some  law  of  right  which  we  may  apply  to  the  archi- 
tecture of  all  the  world  and  of  all  time  ;  and  by  help  of  which, 
and  judgment  according  to  which,  w«  may  easily  pronounc* 
*  Appendix  12,  "  Romanist  Modern  Art," 


THE  VIRTUES  OF  ARCHITECTURE.  49 

whether  a  building  is  good  or  noble,  as,  by  applying  a  plumb- 
line,  whether  it  be  perpendicular. 

The  first  question  will  of  course  be,  What  are  the  possible 
Virtues  of  architecture  ? 

In  the.jaain^  we  require  from  bnilfKny,  *»  faf1**  mam-  fora 
kinds  of  goodness  :  first,  tlie  doing  their  practical  duty  well  : 
then  that  they  be  graceful  and  pleasing  in  doing  it  ;  which 
last  Is  itself  Imother  form  of  duty. 

Then  the  practical  duty  divides  itself  into  two  branches,  — 
actingand  talking  :  —  acting,  as  to  defend  na  from  wftn»><>v  o» 
violence  :  talking,  as  the  duty  of  monuments  or  trnnhifc  |p 
record_facts  and  express  feelings  ;  or  of  churches,  temples, 
public  edifices,  treated  as  books  of  history,  to  tell  such  his- 
tory clearly  and  forcibly. 

We  have  thus,  altogether,  three  great  branches  of  archi- 
tectural virtue,  and  we  require  of  any  building,  — 

1.  Thai,  it.  a.^t'  w^1,  ft"^  ^n  f^fl  things  it  was  intended  t»  dfl 


2.  That  it  speak  well,  flfld  «*y  ffi«  fhinp-a  it  was  intended  to 

say  in  the  best  words. 

3.  Tjiat  it  look  weU^and  please  us  by  its  presence,  what- 

ever it  lias  to  do  or  say.* 

§  n.  Now,  as  regards  the  ^geco_nd_of  .  these  ^virtues,  it  is  jm- 
dent  thaJLWA  can  establish  no  general  laws.,  JEirgt^becauseJt 
tg^not  a  virtue  required  in  all  buildings  j  there  are  some  which 
are  only  for  covert  or  defence,  and  from  which  we  ask  no 
conversation.  Secondly,  because  there  are  countless  methods 
of  expression,  some  conventional,  some  natural  :  each  conven- 
tional mode  has  its  own  alphabet,  which  evidently  can  be  no 
subject  of  general  laws.  Every  natural  mode  is  instinctively 
employed  and  instinctively  understood,  wherever  there  is  true 
feeling  ;  and  this  instinct  is  above  law.  The  choice  of  con- 
ventional methods  depends  on  circumstances  out  of  calcula- 
tion, and  that  of  natural  methods  on  sensations  out  of  con- 
trol ;  so  that  we  can  only  say  that  the  choice  is  right,  when 
we  feel  that  the  means  are  effective  ;  jnd  we  cannot  always 
Bay  that  it  is  wrong  when  they  are  not  so. 

*  Appendix  13.     "  Mr.  Fwrgusson's  System." 

Stones  of  Venice—  Vol.  L—  3^ 


50  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

A  building  which  recorded  the  Bible  history  by  means  oi 
a  series  of  sculptural  pictures,  would  be  perfectly  useless  to  a 
person  unacquainted  with  the  Bible  beforehand  ;  on  the  other 
hand,  the  text  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments  might  be  writ- 
ten on  its  walls,  and  yet  the  building  be  a  very  inconvenient 
kind  of  book,  not  so  useful  as  if  it  had  been  adorned  with 
intelligible  and  vivid  sculpture.  So,  again,  the  power  of  ex- 
citing emotion  must  vary  or  vanish,  as  the  spectator  becomes 
thoughtless  or  cold  ;  and  the  building  may  be  often  blamed 
for  what  is  the  fault  of  its  critic,  or  endowed  with  a  charm 
which  is  of  its  spectator's  creation.  It  is  not,  therefore,  pos- 
sible to  make  expressional  character  any  fair  criterion  of  ex- 
cellence in  buildings,  until  we  can  fully  place  ourselves  in  the 
position  of  those  to  whom  their  expression  was  originally  ad- 
dressed, and  until  we  are  certain  that  we  understand  every 
symbol,  and  are  capable  of  being  touched  by  every  association 
which  its  builders  employed  as  letters  of  their  language.  I 
shall  continually  endeavor  to  put  the  reader  into  such  sym- 
pathetic temper,  when  I  ask  for  his  judgment  of  a  building  ; 
and  in  every  work  I  may  bring  before  him  I  shall  point  out, 
as  far  as  I  am  able,  whatever  is  peculiar  in  its  expression ; 
nay,  I  must  even  depend  on  such  peculiarities  for  much  of  my 
best  evidence  respecting  the  character  of  the  builders.  But 
I  cannot  legalize  the  judgment  for  which  I  plead,  nor  insist 
upon  it  if  it  be  refused.  I  can  neither  force  the  reader  to 
feel  this  architectural  rhetoric,  nor  compel  him  to  confess  that 
the  rhetoric  is  powerful,  if  it  have  produced  no  impression  on 
his  own  mind. 

§  m.  I  leave,  therefore,  the  expression  of  buildings  for  in- 
cidental notice  only.  But  their  other  two  virtues  are  proper 
subjects  of  law, — their  performance  of  their  common  and  nec- 
38sary  work,  and  their  conformity  with  universal  and  divine 
canons  of  loveliness :  respecting  these  there  can  be  no  doubt, 
no  ambiguity.  I  would  have  the  reader  discern  them,  so 
quickly  that,  as  he  passes  along  a  street,  he  may,  by  a  glance 
of  the  eye  distinguish  the  noble  from  the  ignoble  work.  He 
can  do  this,  if  he  permit  free  play  to  his  natural  instincts ; 
and  all  that  I  have  to  do  for  him  i*  to  remove  from  thoae  in- 


THE  VltlTVBS  Of  AUCBITBCTURB.  81 

atincts  the  artificial  restraints  which  prevent  their  action,  and 
to  encourage  them  to  an  unaffected  and  unbiassed  choice  be- 
tween right  and  wrong. 

§  iv.  We  have,  then,  two  qualities  of  buildings  for  subjects 
of  separate  inquiry  :  their  action,  and  aspect,  and  the  sources 
of  virtue  in  both  ;  that  is  to  say,  Strength  and  Beauty,  both 
of  these  being  less  admired  in  themselves,  than  as  testifying 
the  intelligence  or  imagination  of  the  builder. 

For  we  have  a  worthier  way  of  looking  at  human  than  at 
divine  architecture :  much  of  the  value  both  of  construction 
and  decoration,  in  the  edifices  of  men,  depends  upon  our 
being  led  by  the  thing  produced  or  adorned,  to  some  contem- 
plation of  the  powers  of  mind  concerned  in  its  creation  or 
adornment.  We  are  not  so  led  by  divine  work,  but  are  con- 
tent to  rest  in  the  contemplation  of  the  thing  created.  I  wish 
the  reader  to  note  this  especially  :  we  take  pleasure,  or  should 
take  pleasure,  in  architectural  construction  altogether  as  the 
manifestation  of  an  admirable  human  intelligence  ;  it  is  not 
the  strength,  not  the  size,  not  the  finish  of  the  work  which 
we  are  to  venerate :  rocks  are  always  stronger,  mountains 
always  larger,  all  natural  objects  more  finished  ;  but  it  is  the 
intelligence  and  resolution  of  man  in  overcoming  physical 
difficulty  which  are  to  be  the  source  of  our  pleasure  and  sub- 
ject of  our  praise.  And  again,  in  decoration  or  beauty,  it  is 
less  the  actual  loveliness  of  flae  thing  produced,  than  the 
choice  and  invention  concerned  in  the  production,  which  are 
to  delight  us  ;  the  love  and  the  thoughts  of  the  workman  more 
than  his  work  :  his  work  must  always  be  imperfect,  but  his 
thoughts  and  affections  may  be  true  and  deep. 

§  v.  This  origin  of  our  pleasure  in  architecture  I  must  in- 
sist upon  at  somewhat  greater  length,  for  I  would  fain  do 
away  with  some  of  the  ungrateful  coldness  which  we  show  to- 
wards the  good  builders  of  old  time.  In  no  art  is  there  closer 
connection  between  our  delight  in  the  work,  and  our  admira- 
tion of  the  workman's  mind,  than  in  architecture,  and  yet  we 
rarely  ask  for  a  builder's  name.  The  patron  at  whose  cost, 
the  monk  through  whose  dreaming,  the  foundation  was  laid, 
we  remember  occasionally  ;  never  the  man  who  verily  did  th« 


62  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

work.  Did  the  reader  ever  hear  of  William  of  Sens  as  having 
had  anything  to  do  with  Canterbury  Cathedral  ?  or  of  Pietro 
Basegio  as  in  anywise  connected  with  the  Ducal  Palace  of  Ven- 
ice? There  is  much  ingratitude  and  injustice  in  this  ;  and 
therefore  I  desire  my  reader  to  observe  carefully  how  much 
of  his  pleasure  in  building  is  derived,  or  should  be  derived, 
from  admiration  of  the  intellect  of  men  whose  names  he 
knows  not. 

§  vi.  The  two  virtues  of  architecture  which  we  can  justly 
weigh,  are,  we  said,  its  strength  or  good  construction,  and  its 
beauty  or  good  decoration.  Consider  first,  therefore,  what 
you  mean  when  you  say  a  building  is  well  constructed  or  well 
built ;  you  do  not  merely  mean  that  it  answers  its  purpose, — 
this  is  much,  and  many  modern  buildings  fail  of  this  much  ; 
but  if  it  be  verily  well  built,  it  must  answer  this  purpose  in 
the  simplest  way,  and  with  no  over-expenditure  of  means. 
We  require  of  a  light-house,  for  instance,  that  it  shall  stand 
firm  and  carry  a  light ;  if  it  do  not  this,  assuredly  it  has  been 
ill  built ;  but  it  may  do  it  to  the  end  of  time,  and  yet  not  bi 
well  built.  It  may  have  hundreds  of  tons  of  stone  in  it  more 
than  were  needed,  and  have  cost  thousands  of  pounds  more 
than  it  ought.  To  pronounce  it  well  or  ill  built,  we  must 
know  the  utmost  forces  it  can  have  to  resist,  and  the  best  ar- 
rangements of  stone  for  encountering  them,  and  the  quickest 
ways  of  effecting  such  arrangements :  then  only,  so  far  as  such 
arrangements  have  been  chosen,  and  such  methods  used,  is  it 
well  built.  Then  the  knowledge  of  all  difficulties  to  be  met, 
find  of  all  means  of  meeting  them,  and  the  quick  and  true 
fancy  or  invention  of  the  modes  of  applying  the  means  to  the 
end,  are  what  we  have  to  admire  in  the  builder,  even  as  he  ia 
seen  through  this  first  or  inferior  part  of  his  work.  Mental 
power,  observe  :  not  muscular  nor  mechanical,  nor  technical, 
nor  empirical, — pure,  precious,  majestic,  massy  intellect ;  not 
to  be  had  at  vulgar  price,  nor  received  without  thanks,  and 
without  asking  from  whom. 

§  VIL  Suppose,  for  instance,  we  are  present  at  the  building 
of  a  bridge  :  the  bricklayers  or  masons  have  had  their  cen- 
tring erected  for  them,  and  that  centring  was  put  together 


THE  VIRTUES  OP  ARCHITECTURE.  55 

by  a  carpenter,  who  had  the  line  of  its  curve  traced  for  him 
by  the  architect :  the  masons  are  dexterously  handling  and 
fitting  their  bricks,  or,  by  the  help  of  machinery,  carefully 
adjusting  stones  which  are  numbered  for  their  places.  There 
is  probably  in  their  quickness  of  eye  and  readiness  of  hand 
something  admirable  ;  but  this  is  not  what  I  ask  the  reader 
to  admire  :  not  the  carpentering,  nor  the  bricklaying,  nor 
anything  that  he  can  presently  see  and  understand,  but  the 
choice  of  the  curve,  and  the  shaping  of  the  numbered  stones, 
and  the  appointment  of  that  number  ;  there  were  many  things 
to  be  known  and  thought  upon  before  these  were  decided. 
The  man  who  chose  the  curve  and  numbered  the  stones,  had 
to  know  the  times  and  tides  of  the  river,  and  the  strength  of 
its  floods,  and  the  height  and  flow  of  them,  and  the  soil  of  the 
banks,  and  the  endurance  of  it,  and  the  weight  of  the  stones 
he  had  to  build  with,  and  the  kind  of  traffic  that  day  by  day 
would  be  carried  on  over  his  bridge, — all  this  specially,  and  all 
the  great  general  laws  of  force  and  weight,  and  their  working  ; 
and  in  the  choice  of  the  curve  and  numbering  of  stones  are 
expressed  not  only  his  knowledge  of  these,  but  such  ingenuity 
and  firmness  as  he  had,  in  applying  special  means  to  over- 
come the  special  difficulties  about  his  bridge.  There  is  no 
saying  how  much  wit,  how  much  depth  of  thought,  how  much 
fancy,  presence  of  mind,  courage,  and  fixed  resolution  there 
may  have  gone  to  the  placing  of  a  single  stone  of  it.  This  is 
what  we  have  to  admire, — this  grand  power  and  heart  of  man 
in  the  thing ;  not  his  technical  or  empirical  way  of  holding 
the  trowel  and  laying  mortar. 

§  vm.  Now  there  is  in  everything  properly  called  art  this 
concernment  of  the  intellect,  even  in  the  province  of  the  art 
which  seems  merely  practical.  For  observe  :  in  this  bridge- 
building  I  suppose  no  reference  to  architectural  principles  ; 
all  that  I  suppose  we  want  is  to  get  safely  over  the  river  ;  the 
man  who  has  taken  us  over  is  still  a  mere  bridge-builder, — a 
builder,  not  an  architect :  he  may  be  a  rough,  artless,  feeling- 
less  man,  incapable  of  doing  any  one  truly  fine  thing  all  his 
days.  I  shall  call  upon  you  to  despise  him  presently  in  a  sort, 
but  not  as  if  he  were  a  mere  smoother  of  mortar  ;  perhaps  a 


54  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

great  man,  infinite  in  memory,  indefatigable  in  labor,  exhaust 
less  in  expedient,  unsurpassable  in  quickness  of  thought 
Take  good  heed  you  understand  him  before  you  despise  him. 

§  ix.  But  why  is  he  to  be  in  anywise  despised  ?  By  no 
means  despise  him,  unless  he  happen  to  be  without  a  soul,* 
or  at  least  to  show  no  signs  of  it ;  which  possibly  he  may  not 
in  merely  carrying  you  across  the  river.  He  may  be  merely 
what  Mr.  Carlyle  rightly  calls  a  human  beaver  after  all ;  and 
there  may  be  nothing  in  all  that  ingenuity  of  his  greater  than 
a  complication  of  animal  faculties,  an  intricate  bestiality, — 
nest  or  hive  building  in  its  highest  development.  You  need_ 
something  more_than  this,  or_JJie__maiL_is_jiespicable  ;__jou 
need  that  virtue  of  building  through  which  he  may  show  his 
affections  and  delights  ;  you  need-its  beauty  or  decoration. 

§  x.  Not  that,  in  reality,  one  division  of  the  man  is  more 
human  than  another.  Theologists  fall  into  this  error  very 
fatally  and  continually  ;  and  a  man  from  whom  I  have  learned 
much,  Lord  Lindsay,  has  hurt  his  noble  book  by  it,  speaking 
as  if  the  spirit  of  the  man  only  were  immortal,  and  were  op- 
posed to  his  intellect,  and  the  latter  to  the  senses ;  whereas 
all  the  divisions  of  humanity  are  noble  or  brutal,  immortal  01 
mortal,  according  to  the  degree  of  their  sanctification :  and 
there  is  no  part  of  the  man  which  is  not  immortal  and  divine 
when  it  is  once  given  to  God,  and  no  part  of  him  which  is 
not  mortal  by  the  second  death,  and  brutal  before  the  first, 
when  it  is  withdrawn  from  God.  For  to  what  shall  we  trust 
for  our  distinction  from  the  beasts  that  perish?  To  our 
higher  intellect  ? — yet  are  we  not  bidden  to  be  wise  as  the 
serpent,  and  to  consider  the  ways  of  the  ant? — or  to  our 
affections  ?  nay  ;  these  are  more  shared  by  the  lower  animals 
than  our  intelligence.  Hamlet  leaps  into  the  grave  of  his 
beloved,  and  leaves  it, — a  dog  had  stayed.  Humanity  and 
immortality  consist  neither  in  reason,  nor  in  love  ;  not  in  the 
body,  nor  in  the  animation  of  the  heart  of  it,  nor  in  the 
thoughts  and  stirrings  of  the  brain  of  it, — but  in  the  dedica- 
tion of  them  all  to  Him  who  will  raise  them  up  at  the  last 
day* 

*  Appendix  14,  "  Divisions  of  Humanity." 


TEE  VIRTUES  OF  ARCHITECTURE.  55 

§  xi.  It  is  not,  therefore,  that  the  signs  of  his  affections, 
which  man  leaves  upon  his  work,  are  indeed  more  ennobling 
than  the  signs  of  his  intelligence  ;  but  it  is  the  balance  of 
both  whose  expression  we  need,  and  the  signs  of  the  govern- 
ment of  them  all  by  Conscience  ;  and  Discretion,  the  daughter 
of  Conscience.  So,  then,  the  intelligent  part  of  man  being 
eminently,  if  not  chiefly,  displayed  in  the  structure  of  his 
work,  his  affectionate  part  is  to  be  shown  in  its  decoration  ; 
and,  that  decoration  may  be  indeed  lovely,  two  things  are 
needed  :  first,  that  the  affections  be  vivid,  and  honestly  shown ; 
secondly,  that  they  be  fixed  on  the  right  things. 

§  xn.  You  think,  perhaps,  I  have  put  the  requirements  in 
wrong  order.  Logically  I  have  ;  practically  I  have  not :  for 
it  is  necessary  first  to  teach  men  to  speak  out,  and  say  what 
they  like,  truly ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  to  teach  them 
which  of  their  likings,  are  ill  set,  and  which  justly.  If  a  man 
is  cold  in  his  likings  and  dislikings,  or  if  he  will  not  tell  you 
what  he  likes,  you  can  make  nothing  of  him.  Only  get  him 
to  iejel-qaiakly  and-4^ap_eak  plainly,  and-  you_jmay  set  him 
nght.__  And  the  fact  is,  that  the  great  evil  of  aH  fecenT 
architectural  effort  has  not  been  that  men  liked  wrong  things : 
but  that  they  either  cared  nothing  about  any^  or  pretended 

to  IjIrajglTflti  tfrfty  .flifl  ""t, Do  you  suppose  that  any  modern 

architect  likes  what  he  builds,  or  enjoys  it  ?  Not  in  the  least. 
He  builds  it  because  he  has  been  told  that  such  and  such 
things  are  fine,  and  that  he  should  like  them.  He  pretends 
to  like  them,  and  gives  them  a  false  relish  of  vanity.  Do  you 
seriously  imagine,  reader,  that  any  living  soul  in  London  likes 
trigiyphs  ?  * — or  gets  any  hearty  enjoyment  out  of  pedi- 
ments ?  •{•  You  are  much  mistaken.  Greeks  did :  English 
people  never  did, — never  will.  Do  you  fancy  that  the  archi- 
tect of  old  Burlington  Mews,  in  Regent  Street,  had  any 
particular  satisfaction  in  putting  the  blank  triangle  over  the 

*  Triglyph.  Literally,  "Three  Cut."  The  awkward  upright  ornar 
ment  with  two  notches  in  it,  and  a  cut  at  each  side,  to  be  seen  every- 
where at  the  tops  of  Doric  colonnades,  ancient  and  modern. 

t  Pediment.  The  triangular  space  above  Greek  porticos,  as  on  th« 
Mansion  House  or  Royal  Exchange. 


66  THE  STONES  OF    VENICE. 

archway,  instead  of  a  useful  garret  window  ?  By  no  mannei 
of  means.  He  had  been  told  it  was  right  to  do  so,  and 
thought  he  should  be  admired  for  doing  it.  Very  few  faults 
of  architecture  are  mistakes  of  honest  choice  :  they  are  almost 
always  hypocrisies. 

§  xm.  So,  then,  the  first  thing  we  have  to  ask  of  the  decora- 
tion is  that  it  should  indicate  strong  liking,  and  that  honestly. 
It  matters  not  so  much  what  the  thing  is,  as  that  the  builder 
should  really  love  it  and  enjoy  it,  and  say  so  plainly.  The 
architect  of  Bourges  Cathedral  liked  hawthorns  ;  so  he  has 
covered  his  porch  with  hawthorn, — it  is  a  perfect  Niobe  of 
May.  Never  was  such  hawthorn ;  you  would  try  to  gather  it 
forthwith,  but  for  fear  of  being  pricked.  The  old  Lombard 
architects  liked  hunting ;  so  they  covered  their  work  with 
horses  and  hounds,  and  men  blowing  trumpets  two  yards  long, 
The  base  Renaissance  architects  of  Venice  liked  masquing 
and  fiddling  ;  so  they  covered  their  work  with  comic  maska 
and  musical  instruments.  Even  that  was  better  than  oui 
English  way  of  liking  nothing,  and  professing  to  like  tri- 
glyphs. 

§  xrv.  But  the  second  requirement  in  decoration,  is  a  sign 
of  our  liking  the  right  thing.  And  the  right  thing  to  be  liked 
is  God's  work,  which  He  made  for  our  delight  and  contentment 
in  this  world.  And  all  noble  ornamentation  is  the  expression 
of  man's  delight  in  God's  work. 

§  xv.  So,  then,  these  are  the  two  virtues  of  building  :  first, 
the  signs  of  man's  own  good  work  ;  secondly,  the  expression 
of  man's  delight  in  better  work  than  his  own.  And  these  are 
the  two  virtues  of  which  I  desire  my  reader  to  be  able  quickly 
to  judge,  at  least  in  some  measure  ;  to  have  a  definite  opinion 
up  to  a  certain  point.  Beyond  a  certain  point  he  cannot  form 
one.  When  the  science  of  the  building  is  great,  great  science 
is  of  course  required  to  comprehend  it :  and,  therefore,  of 
difficult  bridges,  and  light-houses,  and  harbor  walls,  and  river 
dykes,  and  railway  tunnels,  no  judgment  may  be  rapidly 
formed.  But  of  common  buildings,  built  in  common  circum- 
stances, it  is  very  possible  for  every  man,  or  woman,  or  child, 
to  form  judgment  both  rational  and  rapid.  Their  necessary, 


THE  VIRTUES  OF  ARCHITECTURE.  57 

or  even  possible,  features  are  but  few  ;  the  laws  of  their  con- 
struction are  as  simple  as  they  are  interesting.  The  labor  of 
a  few  hours  is  enough  to  render  the  reader  master  of  their 
main  points ;  and  from  that  moment  he  will  find  in  himself  a 
power  of  judgment  which  can  neither  be  escaped  nor  deceived, 
and  discover  subjects  of  interest  where  everything  before  had 
appeared  barren.  For  though  the  laws  are  few  and  simple, 
the  modes  of  obedience  to  them  are  not  so.  Every  building 
presents  its  own  requirements  and  difficulties  ;  and  every  good 
building  has  peculiar  appliances  or  contrivances  to  meet  them. 
Understand  the  laws  of  structure,  and  you  will  feel  the  special 
difficulty  in  every  new  building  which  you  approach  ;  and  you 
will  know  also,  or  feel  instinctively,*  whether  it  has  been 
wisely  met  or  otherwise.  And  an  enormous  number  of  build* 
ings,  and  of  styles  of  buildings,  you  will  be  able  to  cast  aside 
at  once,  as  at  variance  with  these  constant  laws  of  structure, 
and  therefore  unnatural  and  monstrous. 

§  xvi.  Then,  as  regards  decoration,  I  want  you  only  to  con. 
suit  your  own  natural  choice  and  liking.  There  is  a  right 
and  wrong  in  it ;  but  you  will  assuredly  like  the  right  if  you 
suffer  your  natural  instinct  to  lead  you.  Half  the  evil  in  this 
world  comes  from  people  not  knowing  what  they  do  like,  not 
deliberately  setting  themselves  to  find  out  what  they  really 
enjoy.  All  people  enjoy  giving  away  money,  for  instance : 
they  don't  know  that, — they  rather  think  they  like  keeping  it ; 
and  they  do  keep  it  under  this  false  impression,  often  to  their 
great  discomfort.  Every  body  likes  to  do  good  ;  but  not  one 
in  a  hundred  finds  this  out.  Multitudes  think  they  like  to  do 
evil ;  yet  no  man  ever  really  enjoyed  doing  evil  since  God 
made  the  world. 

So  in  this  lesser  matter  of  ornament.  It  needs  some  little 
care  to  try  experiments  upon  yourself :  it  needs  deliberate 
question  and  upright  answer.  But  there  is  no  difficulty  to  be 
overcome,  no  abstruse  reasoning  to  be  gone  into  ;  only  a  little 
watchfulness  needed,  and  thoughtfulness,  and  so  much  honesty 
as  will  enable  you  to  confess  to  yourself  and  to  all  men,  that 
you  enjoy  things,  though  great  authorities  say  you  should  not 
*  Appendix  15 :  "  Instinctive  Judgments." 


58  THE  8TONES  OF  VENICE. 

§  xvn.  This  looks  somewhat  like  pride ;  but  it  is  true  hu- 
mility, a  trust  that  you  have  been  so  created  as  to  enjoy  what 
is  fitting  for  you,  and  a  willingness  to  be  pleased,  as  it  was 
intended  you  should  be.  It  is  the  child's  spirit,  which  we 
are  then  most  happy  when  we  most  recover  ;  only  wiser  than 
children  in  that  we  are  ready  to  think  it  subject  of  thankful 
ness  that  we  can  still  be  pleased  with  a  fair  color  or  a  dancing 
light  And,  above  all,  do  not  try  to  make  all  these  pleasures 
reasonable,  nor  to  connect  the  delight  which  you  take  in 
ornament  with  that  which  you  take  in  construction  or  useful- 
ness. They  have  no  connection  ;  and  every  effort  that  you 
make  to  reason  from  one  to  the  other  will  blunt  your  sense  of 
beauty,  or  confuse  it  with  sensations  altogether  inferior  to  it 
You  were  made  for  enjoyment,  and  the  world  was  filled  with 
things  which  you  will  enjoy,  unless  you  are  too  proud  to  be 
pleased  by  them,  or  too  grasping  to  care  for  what  you  cannot 
turn  to  other  account  than  mere  delight  Remember  that  the 
most  beautiful  things  in  the  world  are  the  most  useless  ;  pea- 
cocks and  lilies  for  instance ;  at  least  I  suppose  this  quill  I  hold 
in  my  hand  writes  better  than  a  peacock's  would,  and  the  peas- 
ants of  Vevay,  whose  fields  in  spring  time  are  as  white  with 
lilies  as  the  Dent  du  Midi  is  with  its  snow,  told  me  the  hay 
was  none  the  better  for  them. 

§  xvni.  Our  task  therefore  divides  itself  into  two  branches, 
and  these  I  shall  follow  in  succession.  I  shall  first  consider 
the  construction  of  buildings,  dividing  them  into  their  really 
necessary  members  or  features ;  and  I  shall  endeavor  so  to 
lead  the  reader  forward  from  the  foundation  upwards,  as  that 
he  may  find  out  for  himself  the  best  way  of  doing  everything, 
and  having  so  discovered  it,  never  forget  it.  I  shall  give  him 
stones,  and  bricks,  and  straw,  chisels,  and  trowels,  and  the 
ground,  and  then  ask  him  to  build  ;  only  helping  him,  as  I 
can,  if  I  find  him  puzzled.  xVnd  when  he  has  built  his  hous* 
or  church,  I  shall  ask  him  to  ornament  it,  and  leave  it  to  him 
to  choose  the  ornaments  as  I  did  to  find  out  the  construction  : 
I  shall  use  no  influence  with  him  whatever,  except  to  counter- 
act previous  prejudices,  and  leave  him,  as  far  as  may  be,  frea 
And  when  he  has  thus  found  out  how  to  build,  and  chosen 


THE  SIX  DIVISIONS  OF  ARCHITECTURE.          59 

his  forms  of  decoration,  I  shall  do  what  I  can  to  confirm  hig 
confidence  in  what  he  has  done.  I  shall  assure  him  that  no 
one  in  the  world  could,  so  far,  have  done  better,  and  require 
him  to  condemn,  as  futile  or  fallacious,  whatever  has  no  re- 
semblance to  his  own  performances. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

THE    SIX   DIVISIONS    OF   ABCHITECTUEE. 

§  L  The  practical  duties  of  buildings  are  twofold. 
They  have  either  (1),  to  hold  and  protect  something  ;  or  (2)s 
to  place  or  carry  something. 

1.  Architecture  of  Protection.  This  is  architecture  in- 
tended to  protect  men  or  their  possessions  from  violence 
of  any  kind,  whether  of  men  or  of  the  elements.  It  will 
include  all  churches,  houses,  and  treasuries  ;  fortresses, 
fences,  and  ramparts  ;  the  architecture  of  the  hut  and 
sheepfold  ;  of  the  palace  and  the  citadel :  of  the  dyke, 
breakwater,  and  sea-walL  And  the  protection,  when 
of  living  creatures,  is  to  be  understood  as  including 
commodiousness  and  comfort  of  habitation,  wherever 
these  are  possible  under  the  given  circumstances. 

£.  Architecture  of  Position.  This  is  architecture  intended 
to  carry  men  or  things  to  some  certain  places,  or  to 
hold  them  there.  This  will  include  all  bridges,  aque- 
ducts, and  road  architecture  ;  light-houses,  which  have 
to  hold  light  in  appointed  places  ;  chimneys  to  carry 
smoke  or  direct  currents  of  air ;  staircases ;  towers, 
which  are  to  be  watched  from  or  cried  from,  as  in 
mosques,  or  to  hold  bells,  or  to  place  men  in  positions 
of  offence,  as  ancient  moveable  attacking  towers,  and 
most  fortress  towers. 

§  n.  Protective  architecture  has  to  do  one  or  all  of  three 
things  :  to  wall  a  space,  to  roof  it,  and  to  give  access  to  it,  of 


60  TEE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

persons,  light,  and  air ;  and  it  is  therefore  to  be 
under  the  three  divisions  of  walls,  roofs,  and  apertures. 

We  will  take,  first,  a  short,  general  view  of  the  connection 
of  these  members,  and  then  examine  them  in  detail :  endeav- 
oring always  to  keep  the  simplicity  of  our  first  arrangement 
in  view  ;  for  protective  architecture  has  indeed  no  other 
members  than  these,  unless  flooring  and  paving  be  con- 
sidered architecture,  which  it  is  only  when  the  flooring  is  also 
a  roof  ;  the  laying  of  the  stones  or  timbers  for  footing  being 
pavior's  or  carpenter's  work,  rather  than  architect's  ;  and,  at 
all  events,  work  respecting  the  well  or  ill  doing  of  which  we 
shall  hardly  find  much  difference  of  opinion,  except  in  points 
of  aesthetics.  We  shall  therefore  concern  ourselves  only  with 
the  construction  of  walls,  roofs,  and  apertures. 

§  m.  1.  Walls. — A  wall  is  an  even  and  united  fence, 
whether  of  wood,  earth,  stone,  or  metal.  When  meant  for 
purposes  of  mere  partition  or  enclosure,  it  remains  a  wall 
proper  :  but  it  has  generally  also  to  sustain  a  certain  vertical 
or  lateral  pressure,  for  which  its  strength  is  at  first  increased 
by  some  general  addition  to  its  thickness ;  but  if  the  pressure 
becomes  very  great,  it  is  gathered  up  into  piers  to  resist  ver- 
tical pressure,  and  supported  by  buttresses  to  resist  lateral 
pressure. 

If  its  functions  of  partition  or  enclosure  are  continued,  to- 
gether with  that  of  resisting  vertical  pressure,  it  remains  as  a 
wall  veil  between  the  piers  into  which  it  has  been  partly 
gathered  ;  but  if  it  is  required  only  to  resist  the  vertical  or 
roof  pressure,  it  is  gathered  up  into  piers  altogether,  loses 
its  wall  character,  and  becomes  a  group  or  line  of  piers. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  the  lateral  pressure  be  slight,  it  may 
retain  its  character  of  a  wall,  being  supported  against  the 
pressure  by  buttresses  at  intervals  ;  but  if  the  lateral  pressure 
be  very  great,  it  is  supported  against  such  pressure  by  a  con- 
tinuous buttress,  loses  its  wall  character,  and  becomes  a  dyke 
or  rampart. 

§  iv.  We  shall  have  therefore  (A)  first  to  get  a  general  idea 
of  a  wall,  and  of  right  construction  of  walls ;  then  (B)  to  see 
how  this  wall  is  gathered  into  piers  ;  and  to  get  a  general  idea 


THE  SIX  DIVISIONS  OF  ARCHITECTURE. 


61 


of  piers  and  the  right  construction  of  piers ;  then  (C)  to  see 
how  a  wall  is  supported  by  buttresses,  and  to  get  a  general 
idea  of  buttresses  and  the  right  construction  of  buttresses. 
This  is  surely  very  simple,  and  it  is  all  we  shall  have  to  do 
with  walls  and  their  divisions. 

§  v.  2.  Roofs. — A  roof  is  the  covering  of  a  space,  narrow  or 
wide.  It  will  be  most  conveniently  studied  by  first  consider- 
ing the  forms  in  which  it  may  be  carried  over  a  narrow  space, 
and  then  expanding  these  on  a  wide  plan  ;  only  there  is  some 


FIG.  i. 

difficulty  here  in  the  nomenclature,  for  an  arched  roof  over  a 
narrow  space  has  (I  believe)  no  name,  except  that  which  be- 
longs properly  to  the  piece  of  stone  or  wood  composing  such 
a  roof,  namely,  lintel.  But  the  reader  will  have  no  difficulty 
in  understanding  that  he  is  first  to  consider  roofs  on  the  sec- 
tion only,  thinking  how  best  to  construct  a  narrow  bar  or  slice 
of  them,  of  whatever  form  ;  as,  for  instance,  x,  y,  or  z,  over  the 
plan  or  area  a,  Fig.  L  Having  done  this,  let  him  imagine 
these  several  divisions,  first  moved  along  (or  set  side  by  side/ 


62  THE  STONEb  Of    VENICE. 

over  a  rectangle,  b,  Fig.  I.,  and  then  revolved  round  a  point  (01 
crossed  at  it)  over  a  polygon,  c,  or  circle,  d,  and  he  will  have 
every  form  of  simple  roof  :  the  arched  section  giving  succes- 
sively the  vaulted  roof  and  dome,  and  the  gabled  section  giv- 
ing the  gabled  roof  and  spire. 

As  we  go  farther  into  the  subject,  we  shall  only  have  to  add 
one  or  two  forms  to  the  sections  here  given,  in  order  to  em- 
brace all  the  uncombined  roofs  in  existence  ;  and  we  shall  not 
trouble  the  reader  with  many  questions  respecting  cross-vault- 
ing, and  other  modes  of  their  combination. 

§  vi.  Now,  it  also  happens,  from  its  place  in  buildings,  that 
the  sectional  roof  over  a  narrow  space  will  need  to  be  consid- 
ered before  we  come  to  the  expanded  roof  over  a  broad  one. 
For  when  a  wall  has  been  gathered,  as  above  explained,  into 
piers,  that  it  may  better  bear  vertical  pressure,  it  is  generally 
necessary  that  it  should  be  expanded  again  at  the  top  into  a 
continuous  wall  before  it  carries  the  true  roof.  Arches  or 
lintels  are,  therefore,  thrown  from  pier  to  pier,  and  a  levej 
preparation  for  carrying  the  real  roof  is  made  above  them. 
After  we  have  examined  the  structure  of  piers,  therefore,  we 
shall  have  to  see  how  lintels  or  arches  are  thrown  from  pier  to 
pier,  and  the  whole  prepared  for  the  superincumbent  roof ; 
this  arrangement  being  universal  in  all  good  architecture  pre- 
pared for  vertical  pressures  ;  and  we  shall  then  examine  the 
condition  of  the  great  roof  itself.  And  because  the  structure 
of  the  roof  very  often  introduces  certain  lateral  pressures  which 
have  much  to  do  with  the  placing  of  buttresses,  it  will  be  well 
to  do  all  this  before  we  examine  the  nature  of  buttresses,  and, 
therefore,  between  parts  (B)  and  (C)  of  the  above  plan,  §  rv. 
So  now  we  shall  have  to  study  :  (A)  the  construction  of  walls ; 
(B)  that  of  piers  ;  (C)  that  of  lintels  or  arches  prepared  for 
roofing  ;  (D)  that  of  roofs  proper  ;  and  (E)  that  of  buttresses, 

§  vn.  3.  Apertures. — There  must  either  be  intervals  between 
the  piers,  of  which  intervals  the  character  will  be  determined 
by  that  of  the  piers  themselves,  or  else  doors  or  windows  in 
the  walls  proper.  And,  respecting  doors  or  windows,  we  have 
to  determine  three  things  :  first,  the  proper  shape  of  the  entire 
aperture  ;  secondly,  the  way  in  which  it  is  to  be  filled  with 


THE  WALL  BABJB.  63 

or  glass  ;  and  thirdly,  the  modes  of  protecting  it  on  the 
outside,  and  fitting  appliances  of  convenience  to  it,  as  porches 
or  balconies.  And  this  will  be  our  division  F  ;  and  if  the 
reader  will  have  the  patience .  to  go  through  these  six  heads, 
which  include  every  possible  feature  of  protective  architecture, 
and  to  consider  the  simple  necessities  and  fitnesses  of  each,  I 
will  answer  for  it,  he  shall  never  confound  good  architecture 
with  bad  any  more.  For,  as  to  architecture  of  position,  a 
great  part  of  it  involves  necessities  of  construction  with  which 
the  spectator  cannot  become  generally  acquainted,  and  of  the 
compliance  with  which  he  is  therefore  never  expected  to  judge, 
— as  in  chimneys,  light-houses,  &c. :  and  the  other  forms  of  it 
are  so  closely  connected  with  those  of  protective  architecture, 
that  a  few  words  in  Chap.  XIX.  respecting  staircases  and 
towers,  will  contain  all  with  which  the  reader  need  be  troubled 
on  the  subject. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    WALL    BABE* 

§  i.  OUE  first  business,  then,  is  with  Wall,  and  to  find  out 
wherein  lies  the  true  excellence  of  the  "  Wittiest  Partition." 
For  it  is  rather  strange  that,  often  as  we  speak  of  a  "  dead  " 
wall,  and  that  with  considerable  disgust,  we  have  not  often, 
since  Snout's  time,  heard  of  a  living  one.  But  the  common 
epithet  of  opprobrium  is  justly  bestowed,  and  marks  a  right 
feeling.  A  wall  has  no  business  to  be  dead.  It  ought  to  have 
members  in  its  make,  and  purposes  in  its  existence,  like  an 
organized  creature,  and  to  answer  its  ends  in  a  living  and  en- 
ergetic way  ;  and  it  is  only  when  we  do  not  choose  to  put  any 
strength  nor  organization  into  it,  that  it  offends  us  by  ita 
deadness.  Every  wall  ought  to  be  a  "sweet  and  lovely  walL* 
I  do  not  care  about  its  having  ears ;  but,  for  instruction  and 
exhortation,  I  would  often  have  it  to  "  hold  up  its  fingers." 
What  its  necessary  members  and  excellences  are,  it  is  oui 
present  business  to  discover. 


34  THE  STONES  OF  VEN1CR. 

§  n.  A  wall  has  been  defined  to  be  an  even  and  united  fence 
of  wood,  earth,  stone,  or  metal.  Metal  fences,  however,  sel- 
dom, if  ever,  take  the  form  of  walls,  but  of  railings  ;  and,  likfl 
all  other  metal  constructions,  must  be  left  out  of  our  present 
investigation  ;  as  may  be  also  walls  composed  merely  of  light 
planks  or  laths  for  purposes  of  partition  or  inclosure.  Sub- 
stantial walls,  whether  of  wood  or  earth  (I  use  the  word  earth 
as  including  clay,  baked  or  unbaked,  and  stone),  have,  in  their 
perfect  form,  three  distinct  members : — the  Foundation,  Body 
or  Veil,  and  Cornice. 

§  in.  The  foundation  is  to  the  wall  what  the  paw  is  to  an 
animal.  It  is  a  long  foot,  wider  than  the  wall,  on  which  the 
wall  is  to  stand,  and  which  keeps  it  from  settling  into  the 
ground.  It  is  most  necessary  that  this  great  element  of  secu- 
rity should  be  visible  to  the  eye,  and  therefore  made  a  part 
of  the  structure  above  ground.  Sometimes,  indeed,  it  be- 
comes incorporated  with  the  entire  foundation  of  the  build- 
ing, a  vast  table  on  which  walls  or  piers  are  alike  set :  but 
even  then,  the  eye,  taught  by  the  reason,  requires  some  ad- 
ditional preparation  or  foot  for  the  wall,  and  the  building  is 
felt  to  be  imperfect  without  it.  This  foundation  we  shall  call 
the  Base  of  the  wall. 

§  rv.  The  body  of  the  wall  is  of  course  the  principal  mass 
of  it,  formed  of  mud  or  clay,  of  bricks  or  stones,  of  logs  or 
hewn  timber  ;  the  condition  of  structure  being,  that  it  is  of 
equal  thickness  everywhere,  below  and  above.  It  may  be 
half  a  foot  thick,  or  six  feet  thick,  or  fifty  feet  thick  ;  but  if 
of  equal  thickness  everywhere,  it  is  still  a  wall  proper :  if  to 
its  fifty  feet  of  proper  thickness  there  be  added  so  much  aa 
AV  inch  of  thickness  in  particular  parts,  that  added  thickness 
is  ro  be  considered  as  some  form  of  buttress  or  pier,  or  other 
appliance.* 

In  perfect  architecture,  however,  the  walls  are  generally 

*  Many  walls  are  slightly  sloped  or  curved  towards  their  tops,  and  hare 
buttresses  added  to  them  (that  of  the  Queen's  Bench  Prison  is  a  curious 
instance  of  the  vertical  buttress  and  inclined  wall  >  ;  but  in  all  such  in- 
rtances  the  slope  of  the  wall  is  properly  to  be  considered  a  condition  of 
incorporated  buttress. 


THE   WALL  BASE.  65 

kept  of  moderate  thickness,  and  strengthened  "by  piers  of 
buttresses ;  and  the  part  of  the  wall  between  these,  being 
generally  intended  only  to  secure  privacy,  or  keep  out  the 
slighter  forces  of  weather,  may  be  properly  called  a  Wall 
Veil.  I  shall  always  use  this  word  "  Veil "  to  signify  the  even 
portion  of  a  wall,  it  being  more  expressive  than  the  term 
Body. 

§  v.  When  the  materials  with  which  this  veil  is  built  ay« 
very  loose,  or  of  shapes  which  do  not  fit  well  together,  it 
sometimes  becomes  necessary,  or  at  least  adds  to  security,  to 
introduce  courses  of  more  solid  material  Thus,  bricks  al- 
ternate with  rolled  pebbles  in  the  old  walls  of  Verona,  and 
hewn  stones  with  brick  in  its  Lombard  churches.  A  banded 
structure,  almost  a  stratification  of  the  wall,  is  thus  produced ; 
and  the  courses  of  more  solid  material  are  sometimes  deco- 
rated with  carving.  Even  when  the  wall  is  not  thus  banded 
through  its  whole  height,  it  frequently  becomes  expedient  to 
lay  a  course  of  stone,  or  at  least  of  more  carefully  chosen 
materials,  at  regular  heights ;  and  such  belts  or  bands  we 
may  call  String  courses.  These  are  a  kind  of  epochs  in  the 
wall's  existence  ;  something  like  periods  of  rest  and  reflection 
in  human  life,  before  entering  on  a  new  career.  Or  else,  in 
the  building,  they  correspond  to  the  divisions  of  its  stories 
within,  express  its  internal  structure,  and  mark  off  some  por- 
tion of  the  ends  of  its  existence  already  attained. 

§  vi.  Finally,  on  the  top  of  the  wall  some  protection  from 
the  weather  is  necessary,  or  some  preparation  for  the  recep- 
tion of  superincumbent  weight,  called  a  coping,  or  Cornice. 
I  shall  use  the  word  Cornice  for  both  ;  for,  in  fact,  a  coping 
is  a  roof  to  the  wall  itself,  and  is  carried  by  a  small  cornice 
as  the  roof  of  the  building  by  a  large  one.  In  either  case,  the 
cornice,  small  or  large,  is  the  termination  of  the  wall's  exist- 
ence, the  accomplishment  of  its  work.  When  it  is  meant  to 
carry  some  superincumbent  weight,  the  cornice  may  be  con- 
sidered as  its  hand,  opened  to  carry  something  above  its 
head  ;  as  the  base  was  considered  its  foot :  and  the  three 
parts  should  grow  out  of  each  other  and  form  one  whole,  like 
the  root,  stalk,  and  bell  of  a  flower. 
ft 


THE  STONES  Of    VENIUJS. 


These  three  parts  we  shall  examine  in  succession;  and 
first,  the  Base. 

§  vn.  It  may  be  sometimes  in  our  power,  and  it  is  alwayi 
expedient,  to  prepare  for  the  whole  building  some  settled 
foundation,  level  and  firm,  out  of  sight.  But  this  has  not 
been  done  in  some  of  the  noblest  buildings  in  existence.  It 
cannot  always  be  done  perfectly,  except  at  enormous  expense : 
and,  in  reasoning  upon  the  superstructure,  we  shall  never 
suppose  it  to  be  done.  The  mind  of  the  spectator  does  not 
conceive  it  ;  and  he  estimates  the  merits  of  the  edifice  on  the 
supposition  of  its  being  built  upon  the  ground.  Even  if  there 
be  a  vast  table  land  of  foundation  elevated  for  the  whole  of 
it,  accessible  by  steps  all  around,  as  at  Pisa,  the  surface  of 
this  table  is  always  conceived  as  capable  of  yielding  somewhat 
to  superincumbent  weight,  and  generally  is  so  ;  and  we  shall 
base  all  our  arguments  on  the  widest  possible  supposition, 
that  is  to  say,  that  the  building  stands  on  a  surface  either  of 
earth,  or,  at  all  events,  capable  of  yielding  in  some  degree  to 
its  weight 

§  vm.  Now,  let  the  reader  simply  ask  himself  how,  on  such 
a  surface,  he  would  set  about  building  a  substantial  wall, 

that  should  be  able  to 
bear  weight  and  to  stand 
for  ages.  He  would  as- 
suredly look  about  for 
the  largest  stones  he 
had  at  his  disposal,  and, 
rudely  levelling  the 
ground,  he  would  lay 
these  well  together  over 
a  considerably  larger 
width  than  he  required 
the  wall  to  be  (suppose 
as  at  a,  Fig.  H),  in  ordei 
to  equalise  the  pressure 

of  the  wall  over  a  large  surface,  and  form  its  foot.  On  the 
top  of  these  he  would  perhaps  lay  a  second  tier  of  large 
stones,  6,  or  even  the  third,  c,  making  the  breadth  p»mewh»t 


THE   WALL  BASE.  6T 

ess  each  time,  so  as  to  prepare  for  the  pressure  of  the  wall 
on  the  centre,  and,  naturally  or  necessarily,  using  somewhat 
smaller  stones  above  than  below  (since  we  supposed  him  to 
look  about  for  the  largest  first),  and  cutting  them  more 
neatly.  His  third  tier,  if  not  his  second,  will  probably  ap- 
pear a  sufficiently  secure  foundation  for  finer  work  ;  for  if 
the  earth  yield  at  all,  it  will  probably  yield  pretty  equally 
under  the  great  mass  of  masonry  now  knit  together  over  it. 
So  he  will  prepare  for  the  wall  itself  at  once  by  sloping  off  the 
next  tier  of  stones  to  the  right  diameter,  as  at  d.  If  there  be 
any  joints  in  this  tier  within  the  wall,  he  may  perhaps,  for 
further  security,  lay  a  binding  stone  across  them,  e,  and  then 
begin  the  work  of  the  wall  veil  itself,  whether  in  bricks  or 
stones. 

§  ix.  I  have  supposed  the  preparation  here  to  be  for  a  large 
wall,  because  such  a  preparation  will  give  us  the  best  general 
type.  But  it  is  evident  that  the  essential  features  of  the  Ar- 
rangement are  only  two,  that  is  to  say,  one  tier  of  massy  work 
for  foundation,  suppose  c,  missing  the  first  two  ;  and  the  le- 
ceding  tier  or  real  foot  of  the  wall,  d.  The  reader  will  find 
these  members,  though  only  of  brick,  in  most  of  the  con* 
siderable  and  independent  walls  in  the  suburbs  of  London. 

§  x.  It  is  evident,  however,  that  the  general  type,  Fig.  2, 
will  be  subject  to  many  different  modifications  in  different 
circumstances.  Sometimes  the  ledges  of  the  tiers  a  and  5 
may  be  of  greater  width  ;  and  when  the  building  is  in  a 
secure  place,  and  of  finished  masonry,  these  may  be  sloped 
off  also  like  the  main  foot  d.  In  Venetian  buildings  these 
lower  ledges  are  exposed  to  the  sea,  and  therefore  left  rough 
hewn  ;  but  in  fine  work  and  in  important  positions  the  lower 
ledges  may  be  bevelled  and  decorated  like  the  upper,  or 
another  added  above  d  ;  and  all  these  parts  may  be  in  differ- 
ent proportions,  according  to  the  disposition  of  the  building 
above  them.  But  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  any  of  these 
variations  at  present,  they  being  all  more  or  less  dependent 
upon  decorative  considerations,  except  only  ona  of  very  great 
importance,  that  is  to  say,  the  widening  of  the  lower  ledge 
into  a  stone  seat,  which  may  be  often  done  in  buildings  of  great 


08  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

size  with  most  beautiful  effect :  it  looks  kind  and  hospitably 
and  preserves  the  work  above  from  violence.  In  St.  Mark'i 
at  Venice,  which  is  a  small  and  low  church,  and  needing  no 
great  foundation  for  the  wall  veils  of  it,  we  find  only  the 
three  members,  b,  c,  and  d.  Of  these  the  first  rises  about  a 
foot  above  the  pavement  of  St.  Mark's  Place,  and  forms  an 
elevated  dais  in  some  of  the  recesses  of  the  porches,  chequered 
red  and  white  ;  c  forms  a  seat  which  follows  the  line  of  the 
walls,  while  its  basic  character  is  marked  by  its  also  carrying 
certain  shafts  with  which  we  have  here  no  concern ;  d  is  of 
white  marble  ;  and  all  are  enriched  and  decorated  in  the  sim- 
plest and  most  perfect  manner  possible,  as  we  shall  see  in 
Chap.  XXV.  And  thus  much  may  serve  to  fix  the  type  of 
wall  bases,  a  type  oftener  followed  in  real  practice  than  any 
other  we  shall  hereafter  be  enabled  to  determine  :  for  wall 
bases  of  necessity  must  be  solidly  built,  and  the  architect  is 
therefore  driven  into  the  adoption  of  the  right  form  ;  or  if 
he  deviate  from  it,  it  is  generally  in  meeting  some  necessity 
of  peculiar  circumstances,  as  in  obtaining  cellars  and  under- 
ground  room,  or  in  preparing  for  some  grand  features  or  par- 
ticular parts  of  the  wall,  or  in  some  mistaken  idea  of  decora- 
tion,— into  which  errors  we  had  better  not  pursue  him  until 
we  understand  something  more  of  the  rest  of  the  building 
let  us  therefore  proceed  to  consider  the  wall  veiL 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    WALL    VEIL. 

§  i.  THE  summer  of  the  year  1849  was  spent  by  the  writer 
in  researches  little  bearing  upon  his  present  subject,  and  con- 
nected chiefly  with  proposed  illustrations  of  the  mountain 
forms  in  the  works  of  J.  M.  W.  Turner.  But  there  are  some- 
times more  valuable  lessons  to  be  learned  in  the  school  of 
nature  than  in  that  of  Vitruvius,  and  a  fragment  of  building 
among  the  Alps  is  singularly  illustrative  of  the  «hief  feature 
which  I  have  at  present  to  develop  as  necessary  to  the  per- 
fection of  the  'wall  veil. 


THE   WALL    VEIL.  69 

It  is  a  fragment  of  some  size  ;  a  group  of  broken  walls,  one 
of  them  overhanging  ;  crowned  with  a  cornice,  nodding  some 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  over  its  massy  flank,  three  thousand 
above  its  glacier  base,  and  fourteen  thousand  above  the  sea, 
— a  wall  truly  of  some  majesty,  at  once  the  most  precipitous 
and  the  strongest  mass  in  the  whole  chain  of  the  Alps,  the 
Mont  Cervin. 

§  n.  It  has  been  falsely  represented  as  a  peak  or  tower.  It 
is  a  vast  ridged  promontory,  connected  at  its  western  root 
with  the  Dent  d'Erin,  and  lifting  itself  like  a  rearing  horse 
with  its  face  to  the  east.  All  the  way  along  the  flank  of  it, 
for  half  a  day's  journey  on  the  Zmutt  glacier,  the  grim  black 
terraces  of  its  foundations  range  almost  without  a  break  ;  and 
the  clouds,  when  their  day's  work  is  done,  and  they  are  weary, 
lay  themselves  down  on  those  foundation  steps,  and  rest  till 
dawn,  each  with  his  leagues  of  gray  mantle  stretched  along 
the  grisly  ledge,  and  the  cornice  of  the  mighty  wall  gleaming 
in  the  moonlight,  three  thousand  feet  above. 

§  in.  The  eastern  face  of  the  promontory  is  hewn  down,  as 
if  by  the  single  sweep  of  a  sword,  from  the  crest  of  it  to  the 
base  ;  hewn  concave  and  smooth,  like  the  hollow  of  a  wave  : 
on  each  flank  of  it  there  is  set  a  buttress,  both  of  about  equal 
height,  their  heads  sloped  out  from  the  main  wall  about  seven 
hundred  feet  below  its  summit.  That  on  the  north  is  the 
most  important ;  it  is  as  sharp  as  the  frontal  angle  of  a  bas- 
tion, and  sloped  sheer  away  to  the  north-east,  throwing  out 
spur  beyond  spur,  until  it  terminates  in  a  long  low  curve  of 
russet  precipice,  at  whose  foot  a  great  bay  of  the  glacier  of  the 
Col  de  Cervin  lies  as  level  as  a  lake.  This  spur  is  one  of 
the  few  points  from  which  the  mass  of  the  Mont  Cervin  is  in 
anywise  approachable.  It  is  a  continuation  of  the  masonry  of 
the  mountain  itself,  and  affords  us  the  means  of  examining 
the  character  of  its  materials. 

§  iv.  Few  architects  would  like  to  build  with  them.  The 
dope  of  the  rocks  to  the  north-west  is  covered  two  feet  deep 
with  their  ruins,  a  mass  of  loose  and  slaty  shale,  of  a  dull 
brick-red  color,  which  yields  beneath  the  foot  like  ashes,  so 
that,  in  running  down,  you  step  one  yard,  and  slide  threa 


70  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

The  rock  is  indeed  hard  beneath,  but  still  disposed  in  thin 
courses  of  these  cloven  shales,  so  finely  laid  that  they  look  in 
places  more  like  a  heap  of  crushed  autumn  leaves  than  a  rock ; 
and  the  first  sensation  is  one  of  unmitigated  surprise,  as  il 
the  mountain  were  upheld  by  miracle  ;  but  surprise  becomes 
more  intelligent  reverence  for  the  great  builder,  when  we 
find,  in  the  middle  of  the  mass  of  these  dead  leaves,  a  course 
of  living  rock,  of  quartz  as  white  as  the  snow  that  encircles  it, 
and  harder  than  a  bed  of  steel. 

§  v.  It  is  one  only  of  a  thousand  iron  bands  that  knit  the 
strength  of  the  mighty  mountain.  Through  the  buttress  and 
the  wall  alike,  the  courses  of  its  varied  masonry  are  seen  in 
their  successive  order,  smooth  and  true  as  if  laid  by  line  and 
plummet,*  but  of  thickness  and  strength  continually  varying, 
and  with  silver  cornices  glittering  along  the  edge  of  each, 
laid  by  the  snowy  winds  and  carved  by  the  sunshine, — stain- 
less ornaments  of  the  eternal  temple,  by  which  "  neither  the 
hammer  nor  the  axe,  nor  any  tool,  was  heard  while  it  was  in 
building." 

§  VL  I  do  not,  however,  bring  this  forward  as  an  instance 
of  any  universal  law  of  natural  building  ;  there  are  solid  as 
well  as  coursed  masses  of  precipice,  but  it  is  somewhat  curious 
that  the  most  noble  cliff  in  Europe,  which  this  eastern  front 
of  the  Cervin  is,  I  believe,  without  dispute,  should  be  to  us 
an  example  of  the  utmost  possible  stability  of  precipitousness 
attained  with  materials  of  imperfect  and  variable  character ; 
and,  what  is  more,  there  are  very  few  cliffs  which  do  not  dis- 
play alternations  between  compact  and  friable  conditions  of 
their  material,  marked  in  their  contours  by  bevelled  slopes 
when  the  bricks  are  soft,  and  vertical  steps  when  they  are 
harder.  And,  although  we  are  not  hence  to  conclude  that  it  is 
well  to  introduce  courses  of  bad  materials  when  we  can  get 
perfect  material,  I  believe  we  may  conclude  with  great  cer- 
tainty that  it  is  better  and  easier  to  strengthen  a  wall  neces- 
sarily of  imperfect  substance,  as  of  brick,  by  introducing  care- 
fully laid  courses  of  stone,  than  by  adding  to  its  thickness ; 

*  On  the  eaaturn  aide,  violently  contorted  on  the  northern  and  western, 


THE   WALL   VEIL.  71 

and  the  first  impression  we  receive  from  the  unbroken  aspect 
of  a  wall  veil,  unless  it  be  of  hewn  stone  throughout,  is  that 
it  must  be  both  thicker  and  weaker  than  it  would  have  been, 
had  it  been  properly  coursed.  The  decorative  reasons  for 
adopting  the  coursed  arrangement,  which  we  shall  notice  here- 
after, are  so  weighty,  that  they  would  alone  be  almost  suffi- 
cient to  enforce  it ;  and  the  constructive  ones  will  apply 
universally,  except  in  the  rare  cases  in  which  the  choice  of 
perfect  or  imperfect  material  is  entirely  open  to  us,  or  where 
the  general  system  of  the  decoration  of  the  building  requires 
absolute  unity  in  its  surface. 

§  vn.  As  regards  the  arrangement  of  the  intermediate  parts 
themselves,  it  is  regulated  by  certain  conditions  of  bonding 
and  fitting  the  stones  or  bricks,  which  the  reader  need  hardly 
be  troubled  to  consider,  and  which  I  wish  that  bricklayers 
themselves  were  always  honest  enough  to  observe.  But  I 
hardly  know  whether  to  note  under  the  head  of  aesthetic  or 
constructive  law,  this  important  principle,  that  masonry  is  al- 
ways bad  which  appears  to  have  arrested  the  attention  of  the 
architect  more  than  absolute  conditions  of  strength  require. 
Nothing  is  more  contemptible  in  any  work  than  an  appearance 
of  the  slightest  desire  on  the  part  of  the  builder  to  direct  at- 
tention to  the  way  its  stones  are  put  together,  or  of  any  trouble 
taken  either  to  show  or  to  conceal  it  more  than  was  rigidly  ne- 
cessary: it  may  sometimes,  on  the  one  hand,  be  necessary 
to  conceal  it  as  far  as  may  be,  by  delicate  and  close  fitting, 
when  the  joints  would  interfere  with  lines  of  sculpture  or  of 
mouldings ;  and  it  may  often,  on  the  other  hand,  be  de- 
lightful to  show  it,  as  it  is  delightful  in  places  to  show  the 
anatomy  even  of  the  most  delicate  human  frame  :  but  studi- 
ously to  conceal  it  is  the  error  of  vulgar  painters,  who  are 
afraid  to  show  that  their  figures  have  bones  ;  and  studiously 
to  display  it  is  the  error  of  the  base  pupils  of  Michael  Angelo, 
who  turned  heroes'  limbs  into  surgeons'  diagrams, — but  with 
less  excuse  than  theirs,  for  there  is  less  interest  in  the 
anatomy  displayed.  Exhibited  masonry  is  in  most  cases  the 
expedient  of  architects  who  do  not  know  how  to  fill  up  blank 
spaces,  and  many  a  building,  which  would  have  been  decent 


r    rn i r 


i     i     i 


in     r 


r  r   r 


171     r  ' 


72  THE  STONES  OF  VENIOB. 

enough  if  let  alone,  has  been  scrawled  over  with  straight 
lines,  as  in  Fig.  HL,  on  exactly  the  same  principles,  and  with 
just  the  same  amount  of  intelligence  as  a  boy's  in  scrawling 
his  copy-book  when  he  cannot  write.  The  device  was  thought 
ingenious  at  one  period  of  architectural  history  ;  St.  Paul's 
and  Whitehall  are  covered  with  it,  and  it  is  in  this  I  imagine 

that  some  of  our  modern 
architects  suppose  tho 
great  merit  of  those  build- 
ings to  consist.  There  is, 
however,  no  excuse  for 
errors  in  disposition  of 
masonry,  for  there  is  but 
one  law  upon  the  subject, 
and  that  easily  complied 

with,  to  avoid  all  affecta- 
PIG.  m.  . .  -i     -it 

tion   and  all    unnecessary 

expense,  either  in  showing  or  concealing.  Every  one  knows  a 
building  is  built  of  separate  stones  ;  nobody  will  ever  object 
to  seeing  that  it  is  so,  but  nobody  wants  to  count  them.  The 
divisions  of  a  church  are  much  like  the  divisions  of  a  sermon ; 
they  are  always  right  so  long  as  they  are  necessary  to  edifica- 
tion, and  always  wrong  when  they  are  thrust  upon  the  attention 
as  divisions  only.  There  may  be  neatness  in  carving  when 
there  is  richness  in  feasting  ;  but  I  have  heard  many  a  dis- 
course, and  seen  many  a  church  wall,  in  which  it  was  all  carv- 
ing and  no  meat. 


i    i    i     i 


CHAPTER  VL 

THE    WALL    COBNIOB. 

§  L  WE  have  lastly  to  consider  the  close  of  the  wall's  exist- 
ence, or  its  cornice.  It  was  above  stated,  that  a  cornice  has 
one  of  two  offices  :  if  the  wall  have  nothing  to  carry,  the 
cornice  is  its  roof,  and  defends  it  from  the  weather  ;  if  there 
is  weight  to  be  carried  above  the  wall,  the  cornice  is  its  hand, 
and  is  expanded  to  carry  the  said  weight. 


THE   WALL   CORNICE. 


71 


There  are  several  ways  of  roofing  or  protecting  indepen- 
dent walls,  according  to  the  means  nearest  at  hand  :  sometimei 
the  wall  has  a  true  roof  all  to  itself  ;  sometimes  it  terminate* 
in  a  small  gabled  ridge,  made  of  bricks  set  slanting,  as  con- 
stantly in  the  suburbs  of  London  ;  or  of  hewn  stone,  in 
stronger  work ;  or  in  a  single  sloping  face,  inclined  to  tLe 
outside.  We  need  not  trouble  ourselves  at  present  about 
these  small  roofings,  which  are  merely  the  diminutions  of 
large  ones  ;  but  we  must  examine  the  important  and  constant 
member  of  the  wall  structure,  which  prepares  it  either  for 
these  small  roofs  or  for  weights  above,  and  is  its  true  cornice. 

§  n.  The    reader  will,   perhaps,   as    heretofore,   be    kind 


L 


enough  to  think  for  himself,  how,  having 
carried  up  his  wall  veil  as  high  as  it  may 
be  needed,  he  will  set  about  protecting 
it  from  weather,  or  preparing  it  for 
weight.  Let  him  imagine  the  top  of  the 
unfinished  wall,  as  it  would  be  seen  from 
above  with  all  the  joints,  perhaps  un- 
cemented,  or  imperfectly  filled  up  with 
cement,  open  to  the  sky ;  and  small 
broken  materials  filling  gaps  between 
large  ones,  and  leaving  cavities  ready  for 
the  rain  to  soak  into,  and  loosen  and  dis- 
solve the  cement,  and  split,  as  it  froze,  the 
whole  to  pieces.  I  am  much  mistaken  if 
his  first  impulse  would  not  be  to  take  a 
great  flat  stone  and  lay  it  on  the  top  ;  or 
rather  a  series  of  such,  side  by  side,  pro 
jecting  well  over  the  edge  of  the  wall 
veil.  If,  also,  he  proposed  to  lay  a  weight 
(as,  for  instance,  the  end  of  a  beam)  on  the  wall,  he  would 
feel  at  once  that  the  pressure  of  this  beam  on,  or  rather  among, 
the  small  stones  of  the  wall  veil,  might  very  possibly  dislodge 
or  disarrange  some  of  them  ;  and  the  first  impulse  would  be, 
in  this  case,  also  to  lay  a  large  flat  stone  on  the  top  of  all  to 
receive  the  beam,  or  any  other  weight,  and  distribute  it 
equally  among  the  small  stones  below,  as  at  a,  Fig.  IV, 
Stones  of  Venice — Vol.  1. — i 


Fio.  rw. 


74  THE  8TONE8  OF   VENICE. 

§  ni.  We  must  therefore  have  our  flat  stone  in  either  case  { 
and  let  b,  Fig.  IV.S  be  the  section  or  side  of  it,  as  it  is  set 
across  the  wall.  Now,  evidently,  if  by  any  chance  this  weight 
happen  to  be  thrown  more  on  the  edges  of  this  stone  than 
the  centre,  there  will  be  a  chance  of  these  edges  breaking  oft 
Had  we  not  better,  therefore,  put  another  stone,  sloped  off  to 
the  wall,  beneath  the  projecting  one,  as  at  c.  But  now  our 
cornice  looks  somewhat  too  heavy  for  the  wall ;  and  as  the 
upper  stone  is  evidently  of  needless  thickness,  we  will  thin  it 
somewhat,  and  we  have  the  form  d.  Now  observe  :  the  lower 
or  bevelled  stone  here  at  d  corresponds  to  d  in  the  base  (Fig. 
JL,  page  66).  That  was  the  foot  of  the  wall ;  this  is  its  hand. 
And  the  top  stone  here,  which  is  a  constant  member  of  cor- 
nices, corresponds  to  the  under  stone  c,  in  Fig.  IE.,  which  is  a 
constant  member  of  bases.  The  reader  has  no  idea  at  present 
of  the  enormous  importance  of  these  members  ;  but  as  we  shall 
have  to  refer  to  them  perpetualty,  I  must  ask  him  to  compare 
them,  and  fix  their  relations  well  in  his  mind  :  and,  for  conveni- 
ence, I  shall  call  the  bevelled  or  sloping  stone,  X,  and  the  up- 
right edged  stone,  Y.  The  reader  may  remember  easily  which 
is  which  ;  for  X  is  an  intersection  of  two  slopes,  and  may  there- 
fore properly  mean  either  of  the  two  sloping  stones  ;  and  Y  is 
a  figure  with  a  perpendicular  line  and  two  slopes,  and  may 
therefore  fitly  stand  for  the  upright  stone  in  relation  to  each 
of  the  sloping  ones ;  and  as  we  shall  have  to  say  much  more 
about  cornices  than  about  bases,  let  X  and  Y  stand  for  the 
Btones  of  the  cornice,  and  Xb  and  Yb  for  those  of  the  base, 
when  distinction  is  needed. 

§  rv.  Now  the  form  at  d,  Fig.  IV.,  is  the  great  root  and 
primal  type  of  all  cornices  whatsoever.  In  order  to  see  what 
forms  may  be  developed  from  it,  let  us  take  its  profile  a  little 
larger — a,  Fig.  V.,  with  X  and  Y  duly  marked.  Now  thi* 
form,  being  the  root  of  all  cornices,  may  either  have  to  finish 
the  wall  and  so  keep  off  rain  ;  or,  as  so  often  stated,  to  carry 
weight  If  the  former,  it  is  evident  that,  in  its  present  profile, 
the  rain  will  run  back  down  the  slope  of  X  ;  and  if  the  latter, 
that  the  sharp  angle  or  edge  of  X,  at  k,  may  be  a  little  too 
weak  for  its  work,  and  run  a  chance  of  giving  way.  To  avoid 


THE   WALL   COENIOB. 


75 


the  evil  in  the  first  case,  suppose  we  hollow  the  slope  of  X 
inwards,  as  at  6  ;  and  to  avoid  it  in  the  second  case,  suppose 
we  strengthen  X  by  letting  it  bulge  outwards,  as  at  c. 

§  v.  These  (b  and  c)  are  the  profiles  of  two  vast  families  of 
cornices,  springing  from  the  same  root,  which,  with  a  third 
arising  from  their  combination  (owing  its  origin  to  aesthetic 
considerations,  and  inclining  sometimes  to  the  one,  sometimes 
to  the  other),  have  been  employed,  each  on  its  third  part  of 
the  architecture  of  the  whole  world  throughout  all  ages,  and 
must  continue  to  be  so  employed  through  such  time  as  is  yet 
to  come.  We  do  not  at  present  speak  of  the  third  or  com- 


bined  group ;  but  the  relation  of  the  two  main  branches  to 
each  other,  and  to  the  line  of  origin,  is  given  at  e,  Fig.  V.  ; 
where  the  dotted  lines  are  the  representatives  of  the  two 
families,  and  the  straight  line  of  the  root.  The  slope  of  this 
right  line,  as  well  as  the  nature  of  the  curves,  here  drawn  as 
segments  of  circles,  we  leave  undetermined  :  the  slope,  as  well 
as  the  proportion  of  the  depths  of  X  and  Y  to  each  other, 
vary  according  to  the  weight  to  be  carried,  the  strength  of  the 
stone,  the  size  of  the  cornice,  and  a  thousand  other  accidents ; 
and  the  nature  of  the  curves  according  to  aesthetic  laws.  It  is 
in  these  infinite  nelds  that  the  invention  of  the  architect  is 


7«  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

permitted  to  expatiate,  but  not  in  the  alteration  of  primitro 
forms. 

§  vi.  But  to  proceed.  It  will  doubtless  appear  to  the 
reader,  that,  even  allowing  for  some  of  these  permissible  vari- 
ations in  the  curve  or  slope  01  X,  neither  the  form  at  b,  nor 
any  approximation  to  that  form,  would  be  sufficiently  under- 
cut to  keep  the  rain  from  running  back  upon  it.  This  is  true  ; 
but  we  have  to  consider  that  the  cornice,  as  the  close  of  the 
wall's  life,  is  of  all  its  features  that  which  is  best  fitted  for 
honor  and  ornament.  It  has  been  esteemed  so  by  almost  all 
builders,  and  has  been  lavishly  decorated  in  modes  hereafter 
to  be  considered.  But  it  is  evident  that,  as  it  is  high  above 
the  eye,  the  fittest  place  to  receive  the  decoration  is  the  slope 
of  X,  which  is  inclined  towards  the  spectator  ;  and  if  we  cut 
away  or  hollow  out  this  slope  more  than  we  have  done  at  6,  aP 
decoration  will  be  hid  in  the  shadow.  If,  therefore,  the  cli- 
mate be  fine,  and  rain  of  long  continuance  not  to  be  dreaded, 
we  shall  not  hollow  the  stone  X  further,  adopting  the  curve  at 
b  merely  as  the  most  protective  in  our  power.  But  if  the  climate 
be  one  in  which  rain  is  frequent  and  dangerous,  as  in  alterna- 
tions with  frost,  we  may  be  compelled  to  consider  the  cornice 
in  a  character  distinctly  protective,  and  to  hollow  out  X  far- 
ther, so  as  to  enable  it  thoroughly  to  accomplish  its  purpose. 
A  cornice  thus  treated  loses  its  character  as  the  crown  or  honor 
of  the  wall,  takes  the  office  of  its  protector,  and  is  called  a 
DRIPSTONE.  The  dripstone  is  naturally  the  attribute  of  North- 
ern buildings,  and  therefore  especially  of  Gothic  architec- 
ture ;  the  true  cornice  is  the  attribute  of  Southern  build- 
ings, and  therefore  of  Greek  and  Italian  architecture ;  and 
it  is  one  of  their  peculiar  beauties,  and  eminent  features  of 
superiority. 

§  VIL  Before  passing  to  the  dripstone,  however,  let  us  ex- 
amine a  little  farther  into  the  nature  of  the  true  cornice. 
We  cannot,  indeed,  render  either  of  the  forms  b  or  c,  Fig.  V., 
perfectly  protective  from  rain,  but  we  can  help  them  a  little 
in  their  duty  by  a  slight  advance  of  their  upper  ledge.  This, 
with  the  form  6,  we  can  best  manage  by  cutting  off  the  sharp 
upper  point  of  its  curre,  which  is  evidently  weak  and  useless,' 


THE  WALL   CORNICE.  77 

and  we  shall  have  the  form  /.  By  a  slight  advance  of  the 
upper  stone  c,  we  shall  have  the  parallel  form  g. 

These  two  cornices,  f  and  g,  are  characteristic  of  early 
Byzantine  work,  and  are  found  on  all  the  most  lovely  ex- 
amples of  it  in  Venice.  The  type  a  is  rarer,  but  occurs  pure 
in  the  most  exquisite  piece  of  composition  in  Venice — the 
northern  portico  of  Si  Mark's ;  and  will  be  given  in  due 
time. 

§  vru.  Now  the  reader  has  doubtless  noticed  that  these 
forms  of  cornice  result,  from  considerations  of  fitness  and 
necessity,  far  more  neatly  and  decisively  than  the  forms  of 
the  base,  which  we  left  only  very  generally  determined.  The 
reason  is,  that  there  are  many  ways  of  building  foundations, 
and  many  good  ways,  dependent  upon  the  peculiar  accidents 
of  the  ground  and  nature  of  accessible  materials.  There  is 
also  room  to  spare  in  width,  and  a  chance  of  a  part  of  the 
arrangement  being  concealed  by  the  ground,  so  as  to  modify 
height.  But  we  have  no  room  to  spare  in  width  on  the  top 
of  a  wall,  and  all  that  we  do  must  be  thoroughly  visible  ;  and 
we  can  but  have  to  deal  with  bricks,  or  stones  of  a  certain 
degree  of  fineness,  and  not  with  mere  gravel,  or  sand,  or 
clay, — so  that  as  the  conditions  are  limited,  the  forms  become 
determined  ;  and  our  steps  will  be  more  clear  and  certain  the 
farther  we  advance.  The  sources  of  a  river  are  usually  half 
lost  among  moss  and  pebbles,  and  its  first  movements  doubt- 
ful in  direction  ;  but,  as  the  current  gathers  force,  its  banks 
are  determined,  and  its  branches  are  numbered. 

§  ix.  So  far  of  the  true  cornice  :  we  have  still  to  determine 
the  form  of  the  dripstone. 

We  go  back  to  our  primal  type  or  root  of  cornice,  a  of 
Fig.  V.  We  take  this  at  a  in  Fig.  VI.,  and  we  are  to  con- 
sider it  entirely  as  a  protection  against  rain.  Now  the  only 
way  in  which  the  rain  can  be  kept  from  running  back  on  the 
idope  of  X  is  by  a  bold  hollowing  out  of  it  upwards,  b.  But 
clearly,  by  thus  doing,  we  shall  so  weaken  the  projecting  part 
of  it  that  the  least  shock  would  break  it  at  the  neck,  c ;  we 
must  therefore  cut  the  whole  out  of  one  stone,  which  will  give 
us  the  form  d.  That  the  water  may  not  lodge  on  the  upper 


78  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

ledge  of  this,  we  had  better  round  it  off ;  and  it  will  better 
protect  the  joint  at  the  bottom  of  the  slope  if  we  let  the  stone 
project  over  it  in  a  roll,  cutting  the  recess  deeper  above. 
These  two  changes  are  made  in  e  :  e  is  the  type  of  dripstones ; 
the  projecting  part  being,  however,  more  or  less  rounded  into 
ji  approximation  to  the  shape  of  a  falcon's  beak,  and  often 


Pio.  VI. 

reaching  it  completely.  But  the  essential  part  of  the  arrange- 
ment is  the  up  and  under  cutting  of  the  curve.  Wherever 
we  find  this,  we  are  sure  that  the  climate  is  wet,  or  that  the 
builders  have  been  bred  in  a  wet  country,  and  that  the  rest  of 
the  building  will  be  prepared  for  rough  weather.  The  up 
cutting  of  the  curve  is  sometimes  all  the  distinction  between 
the  mouldings  of  far-distant  countries  and  utterly  strange 
nations. 

Fig.  VII.  representing  a  moulding  with  an  outer  and  inner 

curve,    the   latter   under-cut.     Take    the 

j  outer  line,  and  this  moulding  is  one  con- 

x-vT    stant  in  Venice,  in  architecture  traceable 

If        to  Arabian  types,  and  chiefly  to  the  early 

//          mosques   of  Cairo.     But  take  the  inner 

II  line  ;  it  is  a  dripstone  at  Salisbury.     In 

u  that  narrow  .interval  between  the  curves 

«  -  S  there  is,  when  we  read  it  rightly,  an  ex- 

pression of  another  and  mightier  curve, 


Fia.  VTL  —  ^e  01>bed  sweep  of  the  earth  and  sea, 

between  the  desert  of  the  Pyramids,  and 
the  green  and  level  fields  through  which  the  clear  streams  ol 
Sarum  wind  so  slowly. 

And  so  delicate  is  the  test,  that  though  pure  cornice*  avt 


THE   WALL   CORNICE.  7» 

often  fonncl  in  the  north, — borrowed  from  classical  models, — 
so  surely  as  we  find  a  true  dripstone  moulding  in  the  South, 
the  influence  of  Northern  builders  has  been  at  work  ;  and  this 
will  be  one  of  the  principal  evidences  which  I  shall  use  in  de- 
tecting Lombard  influence  on  Arab  work  ;  for  the  true  Byzan- 
tine and  Arab  mouldings  are  all  open  to  the  sky  and  light, 
but  the  Lombards  brought  with  them  from  the  North  the  fear 
of  rain,  and  in  all  the 
Lombardic      Gothic 
we    instantly   recog- 
nize     the     shadowy 
dripstone :     a,    Fig. 
VTTT.,  is  from  a  noble 
fragment   at    Milan, 
in  the  Piazza,  dei  Mer- 
canti;    b,    from    the 
Broletto    of     Como. 
Compare   them  with. 
c  and  d,  both  from 
Salisbury  ;    e  and  f 

from    Lisieux,  Normandy  ;  g  and  h  from  Wenlock  Abbey, 
Shropshire. 

§  x.  The  reader  is  now  master  of  all  that  he  need  know 
about  the  construction  of  the  general  wall  cornice,  fitted 
either  to  become  a  crown  of  the  wall,  or  to  carry  weight 
above.  If,  however,  the  weight  above  become  considerable, 
it  may  be  necessary  to  support  the  cornice  at  intervals  with 
brackets ;  especially  if  it  be  required  to  project  far,  as  well  as 
to  carry  weight ;  as,  for  instance,  if  there  be  a  gallery  on  top 
of  the  wall.  This  kind  of  bracket-cornice,  deep  or  shallow, 
forms  a  separate  family,  essentially  connected  with  roofs  and 
galleries  ;  for  if  there  be  no  superincumbent  weight,  it  is 
evidently  absurd  to  put  brackets  to  a  plain  cornice  or  drip- 
stone (though  this  is  sometimes  done  in  carrying  out  a  style) ; 
so  that,  as  soon  as  we  see  a  bracket  put  to  a  cornice,  it  im- 
plies, or  should  imply,  that  there  is  a  roof  or  gallery  rbove  it. 
Hence  this  family  of  cornices  I  shall  consider  in  connection? 
with  roofing,  calling  them  "roof  cornices,"  while  what  w« 


80  THE  STONES  OF   VENItrE. 

have  hitherto  examined  are  proper  "  wall  cornices."   The  root 
cornice  and  wall  cornice  are  therefore  treated  in  division  D. 

We  are  not,  however,  as  yet  nearly  ready  for  our  rooi 
We  have  only  obtained  that  which  was  to  be  the  object  of  our 
first  division  (A)  ;  we  have  got,  that  is  to  say,  a  general  idea 
of  a  wall  and  of  the  three  essential  parts  of  a  wall ;  and  we 
have  next,  it  will  be  remembered,  to  get  an  idea  of  a  pier  and 
the  essential  parts  of  a  pier,  which  were  to  be  the  subjects  of 
our  second  division  (B). 


CHAPTER  VIL 

TUB   PIER    BASE. 

§  L  IN  §  m.  of  Chap.  IEL,  it  was  stated  that  when  a  wall 
had  to  sustain  an  addition  of  vertical  pressure,  it  was  first 
fitted  to  sustain  it  by  some  addition  to  its  own  thickness  ;  but 
if  the  pressure  became  very  great,  by  being  gathered  up  into 
PIERS. 

I  must  first  make  the  reader  understand  what  I  mean  by  a 
wall's  being  gathered  up.  Take  a  piece  of  tolerably  thick 
drawing-paper,  or  thin  Bristol  board,  five  or  six  inches  square. 
Set  it  on  its  edge  on  the  table,  and  put  a  small  octavo  book 
on  the  edge  or  top  of  it,  and  it  will  bend  instantly.  Tear  it 
into  four  strips  all  across,  and  roll  up  each  strip  tightly.  Set 
these  rolls  on  end  on  the  table,  and  they  will  carry  the  small 
octavo  perfectly  well  Now  the  thickness  or  substance  of  the 
paper  employed  to  carry  the  weight  is  exactly  the  same  as  it 
was  before,  only  it  is  differently  arranged,  that  is  to  say, 
"  gathered  up."  *  If  therefore  a  wall  be  gathered  up  like  the 
Bristol  board,  it  will  bear  greater  weight  than  it  would  if  it 

*  The  experiment  is  not  quite  fair  in  this  rude  fashion  ;  for  the  small 
rolls  owe  their  increase  of  strength  much  more  to  their  tubular  form  than 
their  aggregation  of  material  ;  but  if  the  paper  be  cut  up  into  small  strips, 
and  tied  together  firmly  in  three  or  four  compact  bundles,  it  wil'  exhibit 
increase  of  strength  enough  to  show  the  principle.  Vide,  however,  A.p» 
pendix  16,  "Strength  of  Shafts." 


THE  Plffb  BASE. 


81 


remained  a  wall  veil.     The  sticks  into  which  you  gather  it  are 
called  Piers.     A  pier  is  a  coagulated  wall. 

§  n.  Now  you  cannot  quite  treat  the  wall  as  you  did  the 
Bristol  board,  and  twist  it  up  at  once  ;  but  let  us  see  how  you 
can  treat  it.  Let  A,  Fig.  IX.,  be  the  plan  of  a  wall  which  you 
have  made  inconveniently  and  expensively  thick,  and  which 
still  appears  to  be  slightly  too  weak  for  what  it  must  carry  : 


Fie.  IX. 

divide  it,  as  at  B,  into  equal  spaces,  a,  b,  a,  b,  &c.  Cut  out  & 
thin  slice  of  it  at  every  a  on  each  side,  and  put  the  slices  you 
cut  out  on  at  every  6  on  each  side,  and  you  will  have  the  plan 
at  B,  with  exactly  the  same  quantity  of  bricks.  But  your  wall 
is  now  so  much  concentrated,  that,  if  it  was  only  slightly  too 
weak  before,  it  will  be  stronger  now  than  it  need  be  ;  so  you 
may  spare  some  of  your  space  as  well  as  your  bricks  by  cuV 
VOL.  L— 6 


82  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

ting  off  the  corners  of  the  thicker  parts,  as  suppose  c,  c,  c,  <\ 
at  c :  and  you  have  now  a  series  of  square  piers  connected  "by 
i  wall  veil,  which,  on  less  space  and  with  less  materials,  will 
do  the  work  of  the  wall  at  A  perfectly  well. 

§  m.  I  do  not  say  how  much  may  be  cut  away  in  the  corners 
c,  c, — that  is  a  mathematical  question  with  which  we  need  not 
trouble  ourselves  :  all  that  we  need  know  is,  that  out  of  every 
elice  we  take  from  the  "  6's  "  and  put  on  at  the  "  a's,"  we  may 
keep  a  certain  percentage  of  room  and  bricks,  until,  suppos- 
ing that  we  do  not  want  the  wall  veil  for  its  own  sake,  this 
latter  is  thinned  entirely  away,  like  the  girdle  of  the  Lady  of 
Avenel,  and  finally  breaks,  and  we  have  nothing  but  a  row  of 
square  piers,  D. 

§  iv.  But  have  we  yet  arrived  at  the  form  which  will  spare 
most  room,  and  use  fewest  materials  ?  No  ;  and  to  get  farther 
we  must  apply  the  general  principle  to  our  wall,  which  is 
equally  true  in  morals  and  mathematics,  that  the  strength  of 
materials,  or  of  men,  or  of  minds,  u  always  most  available 
when  it  is  applied  as  closely  as  possible  to  a  sinrla  point. 

Let  the  point  to  which  we  wish  the  strength  c:  our  squara 
piers  to  be  applied,  be  chosen.  Then  we  shall  of  course  put 
them  directly  under  it,  and  the  point  will  be  in  their  centre. 
But  now  some  of  their  materials  are  not  so  near  or  close  to 
this  point  as  others.  Those  at  the  corners  are  farthc,  off  than 
the  rest. 

Now,  if  every  particle  of  the  pier  be  brought  as  near  a& 
possible  to  the  centre  of  it,  the  form  it  assumes  is  the  circle. 

The  circle  must  be,  therefore,  the  best  possible  form  of  plan 
for  a  pier,  from  the  beginning  of  time  to  the  end  of  it.  A  cir- 
cular pier  is  called  a  pillar  or  column,  and  all  good  archi- 
tecture adapted  to  vertical  support  is  made  up  of  pillars,  has 
always  been  so,  and  must  ever  be  so,  as  long  as  the  laws  of 
the  universe  hold. 

The  final  condition  ia  represented  at  E,  in  its  relation  to  that 
at  D.  It  will  be  observed  that  though  each  circle  projects  a 
little  beyond  the  side  of  the  square  out  of  which  it  is  formed, 
the  space  cut  off  at  the  angles  is  greater  than  that  added  at 
the  sidea ;  for,  having  our  materials  in  a  more  concentrated 


T8R  PIER  BASS.  88 

% 

arrangement,  we  can  afford  to  part  with  some  of  them  in  thii 
last  transformation,  as  in  all  the  rest. 

§  v.  And  now,  what  have  the  base  and  the  cornice  of  the 
wall  been  doing  while  we  have  been  cutting  the  veil  to  pieces 
and  gathering  it  together  ? 

The  base  is  also  cut  to  pieces,  gathered  together,  and  be- 
comes the  base  of  the  column. 

The  cornice  is  cut  to  pieces,  gathered  together,  and  be- 
comes the  capital  of  the  column.  Do  not  be  alarmed  at  the 
new  word,  it  does  not  mean  a  new  thing ;  a  capital  is  only  the 
cornice  of  a  column,  and  you  may,  if  you  like,  call  a  cornice 
the  capital  of  a  wall. 

We  have  now,  therefore,  to  examine  these  three  concentrated 
forms  of  the  base,  veil,  and  cornice  :  first,  the  concentrated 
base,  still  called  the  BASE  of  the  column  ;  then  the  concen- 
trated veil,  called  the  SHAFT  of  the  column  ;  then  the  concen- 
trated cornice,  called  the  CAPITAL  of  the  column. 

And  first  the  Base  : — 

§  vi.  Look  back  to  the  main  type,  Fig.  IL,  page  66,  and 
apply  i^  profiles  in  due  proportion  to  the  feet  of  the  pillars  at 
E  in  Fig.  IX.,  p.  81 :  If  each  step  in  Fig.  II.  were  gathered 
accurately,  the  projection  of  the  entire  circular  base  would  be 
less  in  proportion  to  its  height  than  it  is  in  I^0.  IL  ;  but  the 
approximation  to  the  result  in  Fig.  X.  is  quite  accurate  enough 
for  our  purposes.  (I  pray  the  reader  to  observe  that  I  have 
not  made  the  smallest  change,  except  this  necessary  expres- 
sion of  a  reduction  in  diameter,  in  Fig.  IL  as  it  is  applied  in 
Fig.  X.,  only  I  have  not  drawn  the  joints  of  the  stones  because 
these  would  confuse  the  outlines  of  the  bases  ;  and  I  have  not 
represented  the  rounding  of  the  shafts,  because  it  does  not 
bear  at  present  on  the  argument.)  Now  it  would  hardly  be 
convenient,  if  we  had  to  pass  between  the  pillars,  to  have  to 
squeeze  ourselves  through  one  of  those  angular  gaps  or  breches 
de  Roland  in  Fig.  X.  Our  first  impulse  would  be  to  cut  them 
open  ;  but  we  cannot  do  this,  or  our  piers  are  unsafe.  We 
Lave  but  one  other  resource,  to  fill  them  up  until  we  have  a 
floor  wide  enough  to  let  us  pass  easily  :  this  we  may  perhaps 
obtain  at  the  first  ledge,  we  are  nearly  sure  to  get  it  at  the 


THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 


second,  and  we  may  then  obtain  access  to  the  raised  interval, 
either  by  raising  the  earth  over  the  lower  courses  of  founda- 
tion, or  by  steps  round  the  entire  building. 


Fio.  X. 

Fig.  XL  is  the  arrangement  of  Fig.  X.  so  treated. 

§  vn.  But  suppose  the  pillars  are  so  vast  that  the  lowest 
chink  in  Fig.  X,  would  be  quite  wide  enough  to  let  us  pass 
through  it.  Is  there  then  any  reason  for  filling  it  up  ?  Yes. 
It  will  be  remembered  that  in  Chap.  IV.  §  vni.  the  chief  reason 

i 


£ 


Via.  XI. 


for  the  wide  foundation  of  the  wall  was  stated  to  be  "  that  it 
might  equalise  its  pressure  over  a  large  surface  ; "  but  when 
the  foundation  is  cut  to  pieces  as  in  Fig.  X.,  the  pressure  is 
thrown  on  a  succession  of  narrowed  and  detached  spaces  of 


THE  PIER  BASE.  85 

siiat  surface.  If  the  ground  is  in  some  places  more  disposed 
to  yield  than  in  others,  the  piers  in  those  places  will  sink 
more  than  the  rest,  and  this  distortion  of  the  system  will  be 
probably  of  more  importance  in  pillars  than  in  a  wall,  because 
the  adjustment  of  the  weight  above  is  more  delicate  ;  we  thus 
actually  want  the  weight  of  the  stones  between  the  pillars,  in 
order  that  the  whole  foundation  may  be  bonded  into  one, 
and  sink  together  if  it  sink  at  all :  and  the  more  massy  the 
pillars,  the  more  we  shall  need  to  fill  the  intervals  of  their 
foundations.  In  the  best  form  of  Greek  architecture,  the  in- 
tervals are  filled  up  to  the  root  of  the  shaft,  and  the  columns 
have  no  independent  base ;  they  stand  on  the  even  floor  of 
their  foundation. 

§  vrn.  Such  a  structure  is  not  only  admissible,  but,  when 
ihe  column  is  of  great  thickness  in  proportion  to  its  height, 
and  the  sufficient  firmness,  either  of  the  ground  or  prepared 
floor,  is  evident,  it  is  the  best  of  all,  having  a  strange  dignity 
in  its  excessive  simplicity.  It  is,  or  ought  to  be,  connected 
in  our  minds  with  the  deep  meaning  of  primeval  memorial. 
"  And  Jacob  took  the  stone  that  he  had  put  for  his  pillow, 
and  set  it  up  for  a  pillar."  I  do  not  fancy  that  he  put  a  base 
for  it  first.  If  you  try  to  put  a  base  to  the  rock-piers  of 
Stonehenge,  you  will  hardly  find  them  improved  ;  and  two  of 
the  most  perfect  buildings  in  the  world,  the  Parthenon  and 
Ducal  palace  of  Venice,  have  no  bases  to  their  pillars  :  the 
latter  has  them,  indeed,  to  its  upper  arcade  shafts ;  and  had 
once,  it  is  said,  a  continuous  raised  base  for  its  lower  ones : 
but  successive  elevations  of  St.  Mark's  Place  have  covered  thig 
base,  and  parts  of  the  shafts  themselves,  with  an  inundation 
of  paving  stones  ;  and  yet  the  building  is,  I  doubt  not,  as 
grand  as  ever.  Finally,  the  two  most  noble  pillars  in  Venice, 
those  brought  from  Acre,  stand  on  the  smooth  marble  surface 
of  the  Piazzetta,  with  no  independent  bases  whatever.  They 
are  rather  broken  away  beneath,  so  that  you  may  look  under 
parts  of  them,  and  stand  (not  quite  erect,  but  leaning  some- 
what) safe  by  their  own  massy  weight.  Nor  could  any  basis 
possibly  be  devised  that  would  not  spoil  them. 

§  ix.  But  it  is  otherwise  if  the  pillar  be  so  alendei  as  to 


«6  THE  8TONE8  OF  VENICE. 

look  doubtfully  balanced.  It  would  indeed  stand  quite  a* 
safely  without  an  independent  base  as  it  would  with  one  (at 
least,  unless  the  base  be  in  the  form  of  a  socket).  But  it  will 
not  appear  so  safe  to  the  eye.  And  here  for  the  first  time,  I 
have  to  express  and  apply  a  principle,  which  I  believe  the 
reader  will  at  once  grant, — that  features  necessary  to  express 
security  to  the  imagination,  are  often  as  essential  parts  of 
good  architecture  as  those  required  for  security  itself.  It  was 
said  that  the  wall  base  was  the  foot  or  paw  of  the  wall.  Ex- 
actly in  the  same  way,  and  with  clearer  analogy,  the  pier  base 
is  the  foot  or  paw  of  the  pier.  Let  us,  then,  take  a  hint  from 
nature.  A  foot  has  two  offices,  to  bear  up,  and  to  hold  firm. 
As  far  as  it  has  to  bear  up,  it  is  uncloven,  with  slight  projec- 
tion,— look  at  an  elephant's  (the  Doric  base  of  animality) ;  * 
but  as  far  as  it  has  to  hold  firm,  it  is  divided  and  clawed,  with 
wide  projections, — look  at  an  eagle's. 

§  x.  Now  observe.  In  proportion  to  the  massiness  of  the 
column,  we  require  its  foot  to  express  merely  the  power  ol 
bearing  up ;  in  fact,  it  can  do  without  a  foot,  like  the  Squirf 
in  Chevy  Chase,  if  the  ground  only  be  hard  enough.  But  il 
the  column  be  slender,  and  look  as  if  it  might  lose  its  balance, 
we  require  it  to  look  as  if  it  had  hold  of  the  ground,  or  the 
ground  hold  of  it,  it  does  not  matter  which, — some  expression 
of  claw,  prop,  or  socket.  Now  let  us  go  back  to  Fig.  XI.,  and 
take  up  one  of  the  bases  there,  in  the  state  in  which  we  left  it. 
We  may  leave  out  the  two  lower  steps  (with  which  we  have 
nothing  more  to  do,  as  they  have  become  the  united  floor  or 
foundation  of  the  whole),  and,  for  the  sake  of  greater  clear, 
ness,  I  shall  not  draw  the  bricks  in  the  shaft,  nor  the  flat  stone 
which  carries  them,  though  the  reader  is  to  suppose  them  re- 
maining as  drawn  in  Fig.  XL  ;  but  I  shall  only  draw  the  shaft 
and  its  two  essential  members  of  base,  Xb  and  Yb,  as  explained 
at  p.  74,  above  :  and  now,  expressing  the  rounding  of  these 
numbers  on  a  somewhat  larger  scale,  we  have  the  profile  a, 
Fig.  XH.  ;  6,  the  perspective  appearance  of  such  a  base  seen 
from  above  ;  and  c,  the  plan  of  it. 

§  xi.  Now  I  am  quite  sure  the  reader  is  not  satisfied  of  the 
*  Appendix  17,  "  Answer  to  Mr.  Garbett." 


THE  PIER  BASE. 


stability  of  this  form  as  it  is  seen  at  6  ;  nor  would  he  ever  be 
so  with  the  main  contour  of  a  circular  base.  Observe,  we  have 
taken  some  trouble  to  reduce  the  member  Yb  into  this  round 
form,  and  all  that  we  have  gained  by  so  doing,  is  this  unsatis- 
factory and  unstable  look  of  the  base  ;  of  which  the  chief 
reason  is,  that  a  circle,  unless  enclosed  by  right  lines,  has  never 
an  appearance  of  fixture,  or  definite  place,  * — we  suspect  it  of 
motion,  like  an  orb  of  heaven  ;  and  the  second  is,  that  the 


Fio.  XII. 

whole  base,  considered  as  the  foot  of  the  shaft,  has  no  grasn 
nor  hold  :  it  is  a  club-foot,  and  looks  too  blunt  for  the  limb, — 
it  wants  at  least  expansion,  if  not  division. 

§  xii.  Suppose,  then,  instead  of  taking  so  much  trouble 

*  Yet  more  so  than  any  other  figure  enclosed  hy  a  curved  line :  for  th« 
elrcle,  in  its  relations  to  its  own  centre,  is  the  curve  of  greatest  stability, 
Compare  §  xx.  oi  Chap.  XX. 


88  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

with  the  member  Yb,  we  save  time  and  labor,  and  leave  it  9 
square  block.  Xb  must,  however,  evidently  follow  the  pillar, 
as  its  condition  is  that  it  slope  to  the  very  base  of  the  wall  veil, 
and  of  whatever  the  wall  veil  becomes.  So  the  corners  of  Yb 
will  project  beyond  the  circle  of  Xb,  and  we  shall  have  (Fig, 
XTT  )  the  profile  d,  the  perspective  appearance  e,  and  the  plan 
f.  I  am  quite  sure  the  reader  likes  e  much  better  than  he  did 
6.  The  circle  is  now  placed,  and  we  are  not  afraid  of  its  roll- 
ing away.  The  foot  has  greater  expansion,  and  we  have  saved 
labor  besides,  with  little  loss  of  space,  for  the  interval  between 
the  bases  is  just  as  great  as  it  was  before, — we  have  only  filled 
up  the  corners  of  the  squares. 

But  is  it  not  possible  to  mend  the  form  still  further? 
There  is  surely  still  an  appearance  of  separation  between  Xb 
and  Yb,  as  if  the  one  might  slip  off  the  other.  The  foot  is 
expanded  enough  ;  but  it  needs  some  expression  of  grasp  as 
well.  It  has  no  toes.  Suppose  we  were  to  put  a  spur  o* 
prop  to  Xb  at  each  corner,  so  as  to  hold  it  fast  hi  the  centre 
of  Yb.  We  will  do  this  in  the  simplest  possible  form.  We 
will  have  the  spur,  or  small  buttress,  sloping  straight  from 
the  corner  of  Yb  up  to  the  top  of  Xb,  and  as  seen  from  above, 
of  the  shape  of  a  triangle.  Applying  such  spurs  in  Fig.  XIL, 
we  have  the  diagonal  profile  at  g,  the  perspective  h,  and  the 
plan  i. 

§  xm.  I  am  quite  sure  the  reader  likes  this  last  base  the 
best,  and  feels  as  if  it  were  the  firmest.  But  he  must  care- 
fully distinguish  between  this  feeling  or  imagination  of  the 
eye,  and  the  real  stability  of  the  structure.  That  this  real 
stability  has  been  slightly  increased  by  the  changes  between  b 
and  h,  in  Fig.  XII.,  is  true.  There  is  in  the  base  h  some- 
what less  chance  of  accidental  dislocation,  and  somewhat 
greater  solidity  and  weight.  But  this  very  slight  gain  of  se- 
curity is  of  no  importance  whatever  when  compared  with  the 
general  requirements  of  the  structure.  The  pillar  must  be 
perfectly  secure,  and  more  than  secure,  with  the  base  b,  or  the 
building  will  be  unsafe  whatever  other  base  you  put  to  ihe 
pillar.  The  changes  are  made,  not  for  the  sake  of  the  almost 
inappreciable  increase  of  security  they  involve,  but  in  order 


THE  PIER  BASE.  89 

to  convince  the  eye  of  the  real  security  which  the  base  b  ap- 
pears to  compromise.  This  is  especially  the  case  with  regard 
to  the  props  or  spurs,  which  are  absolutely  useless  in  reality, 
but  are  of  the  highest  importance  as  an  expression  of  safety. 
And  this  will  farther  appear  when  we  observe  that  they  have 
been  above  quite  arbitrarily  supposed  to  be  of  a  triangular 
form.  Why  triangular  ?  Why  should  not  the  spur  be  made 
wider  and  stronger,  so  as  to  occupy  the  whole  width  of  the 
angle  of  the  square,  and  to  become  a  complete  expansion  of 
Xb  to  the  edge  of  the  square  ?  Simply  because,  whatever  its 
width,  it  has,  in  reality,  no  supporting  power  whatever ;  and 
the  expression  of  support  is  greatest  where  it  assumes  a  form 
approximating  to  that  of  the  spur  or  claw  of  an  animal.  We 
shall,  however,  find  hereafter,  that  it  ought  indeed  to  be 
much  wider  than  it  is  in  Fig.  XII. ,  where  it  is  narrowed  in 
order  to  make  its  structure  clearly  intelligible. 

§  xrv.  If  the  reader  chooses  to  consider  this  spur  as  an 
aesthetic  feature  altogether,  he  is  at  liberty  to  do  so,  and  to 
transfer  what  we  have  here  said  of  it  to  the  beginning  of 
Chap.  XXV.  I  think  that  its  true  place  is  here,  as  an  expres- 
sion of  safety,  and  not  a  means  of  beauty  ;  but  I  will  assume 
only,  as  established,  the  form  e  of  Fig.  XII.,  which  is  abso- 
lutely, as  a  construction,  easier,  stronger,  and  more  perfect 
than  b.  A  word  or  two  now  of  its  materials.  The  wall  base, 
it  will  be  remembered,  was  built  of  stones  more  neatly  cut  as 
they  were  higher  in  place  ;  and  the  members,  Y  and  X,  of 
the  pier  base,  were  the  highest  members  of  the  wall  base 
gathered.  But,  exactly  in  proportion  to  this  gathering  or 
concentration  in  form,  should,  if  possible,  be  the  gathering 
or  concentration  of  substance.  For  as  the  whole  weight  of 
the  building  is  now  to  rest  upon  few  and  limited  spaces,  it  is 
of  the  greater  importance  that  it  should  be  there  received  by 
solid  masonry.  Xb  and  Yb  are  therefore,  if  possible,  to  be 
each  of  a  single  stone  ;  or,  when  the  shaft  is  small,  both  cut 
out  of  one  block,  and  especially  if  spurs  are  to  be  added  to 
Xb.  The  reader  must  not  be  angry  with  me  for  stating 
things  so  self-evident,  for  these  are  all  necessary  steps  in  the 
chain  of  argument  which  I  must  not  break.  Even  this  change 


90  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

from  detached  stones  to  a  single  block  is  not  without  signifi' 
cance  ;  for  it  is  part  of  the  real  service  and  value  of  the 
member  Yb  to  provide  for  the  reception  of  the  shaft  a  sur- 
face free  from  joints  ;  and  the  eye  always  conceives  it  as  a 
firm  covering  over  all  inequalities  or  fissures  in  the  smaller 
masonry  of  the  floor. 

§  xv.  I  have  said  nothing  yet  of  the  proportion  of  th« 
height  of  Yb  to  its  width,  nor  of  that  of  Yb  and  Xb  to  each 
other.  Both  depend  much  on  the  height  of  shaft,  and  are 
besides  variable  within  certain  limits,  at  the  architect's  dis- 
cretion. But  the  limits  of  the  height  of  Yb  may  be  thus  gen- 
erally stated.  If  it  looks  so  thin  as  that  the  weight  of  the 
column  above  might  break  it,  it  is  too  low  ;  and  if  it  is  higher 
than  its  own  width,  it  is  too  high.  The  utmost  admissible 
height  is  that  of  a  cubic  block  ;  for  if  it  ever  become  higher 
than  it  is  wide,  it  becomes  itself  a  part  of  a  pier,  and  not  the 
base  of  one. 

§  xvi.  I  have  also  supposed  Yb,  when  expanded  from  be- 
neath Xb,  as  always  expanded  into  a  square,  and  four  spurs 
only  to  be  added  at  the  angles.  But  Yb  may  be  expanded 
into  a  pentagon,  hexagon,  or  polygon  ;  and  Xb  then  may 
have  five,  six,  or  many  spurs.  In  proportion,  however,  as  the 
sides  increase  in  number,  the  spurs  become  shorter  and  less 
energetic  in  their  effect,  and  the  square  is  in  most  cases  the 
best  form. 

§  xvn.  We  have  hitherto  conducted  the  argument  entirely 
on  the  supposition  of  the  pillars  being  numerous,  and  in  a 
range.  Suppose,  however,  that  we  require  only  a  single  pil- 
lar:  as  we  have  free  space  round  it,  there  is  no  need  to  fill  up 
the  first  ranges  of  its  foundations ;  nor  need  we  do  so  in  order 
to  equalise  pressure,  since  the  pressure  to  be  met  is  its  own 
alone.  Under  such  circumstances,  it  is  well  to  exhibit  the 
lower  tiers  of  the  foundation  as  well  as  Yb  and  Xb.  The 
noble  bases  of  the  two  granite  pillars  of  the  Piazzetta  at 
Venice  are  formed  by  the  entire  series  of  members  given  in 
Fig.  X,  the  lower  courses  expanding  into  steps,  with  a  superb 
breadth  of  proportion  to  the  shaft.  The  member  Xb  is  of 
course  circular,  having  itss  proper  decorative  mouldings,  not 


THE  PIER  BASE.  91 

here  considered  ;  Yb  is  octagonal,  but  filled  up  into  a  square 
by  certain  curious  groups  of  figures  representing  the  trades 
of  Venice.  The  three  courses  below  are  octagonal,  with  their 
sides  set  across  the  angles  of  the  innermost  octagon,  Yb. 
The  shafts  are  15  feet  in  circumference,  and  the  lowest  octa- 
gons of  the  base  56  (7  feet  each  side). 

§  xvm.  Detached  buildings,  like  our  own  Monument,  are 
not  pillars,  but  towers  built  in  imitation  of  Pillars.  As  towers 
they  are  barbarous,  being  dark,  inconvenient,  and  unsafe, 
besides  lying,  and  pretending  to  be  what  they  are  not.  As 
shafts  they  are  barbarous,  because  they  were  designed  at  a 
time  when  the  Renaissance  architects  had  introduced  and 
forced  into  acceptance,  as  de  rigueur,  a  kind  of  columnar 
high-heeled  shoe, — a  thing  which  they  called  a  pedestal,  and 
which  is  to  a  true  base  exactly  what  a  Greek  actor's  cothurnus 
was  to  a  Greek  gentleman's  sandal  But  the  Greek  actor 
knew  better,  I  believe,  than  to  exhibit  or  to  decorate  his  cork 
sole ;  and,  with  shafts  as  with  heroes,  it  is  rather  better  to 
put  the  sandal  off  than  the  cothurnus  on.  There  are,  indeed, 
occasions  on  which  a  pedestal  may  be  necessary  ;  it  may  be 
better  to  raise  a  shaft  from  a  sudden  depression  of  plinth  to  a 
level  with  others,  its  companions,  by  means  of  a  pedestal, 
than  to  introduce  a  higher  shaft ;  or  it  may  be  better  to  place 
a  shaft  of  alabaster,  if  otherwise  too  short  for  our  purpose,  on 
a  pedestal,  than  to  use  a  larger  shaft  of  coarser  material ;  but 
the  pedestal  is  in  each  case  a  make-shift,  not  an  additional 
perfection.  It  may,  in  the  like  manner,  be  sometimes  con- 
venient for  men  to  walk  on  stilts,  but  not  to  keep  their  stilts 
on  as  ornamental  parts  of  dress.  The  bases  of  the  Nelson 
Column,  the  Monument,  and  the  column  of  the  Place  Yen- 
dome,  are  to  the  shafts,  exactly  what  highly  ornamented 
wooden  legs  would  be  to  human  beings. 

§  xix.  So  far  of  bases  of  detached  shafts.  As  we  do  not  jwt 
know  in  what  manner  shafts  are  likely  to  be  grouped,  we  can 
say  nothing  of  those  of  grouped  shafts  until  we  know  more  of 
what  they  are  to  support. 

Lastly  ;  we  have  throughout  our  reasoning  upon  the  base 
supposed  the  pier  to  be  circular.  But  circumstances  may 


92  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

occur  to  prevent  its  being  reduced  to  this  form,  and  it  may 
remain  square  or  rectangular ;  its  base  will  then  be  simply 
the  wall  base  following  its  contour,  and  we  have  no  spurs  at 
the  angles.  Thus  much  may  serve  respecting  pier  bases  ;  we 
have  next  to  examine  the  concentration  of  the  Wall  Veil,  or 
the  Shaft. 


CHAPTER  Vltt 

THE    SHAFT. 

§  i.  WE  have  seen  in  the  last  Chapter  how,  in  converting 
the  wall  into  the  square  or  cylindrical  shaft,  we  parted  at  every 
change  of  form  with  some  quantity  of  material.  In  propor- 
tion to  the  quantity  thus  surrrendered,  is  the  necessity  that 
what  we  retain  should  be  good  of  its  kind,  and  well  set  to- 
gether, since  everything  now  depends  on  it. 

It  is  clear  also  that  the  best  material,  and  the  closest  con- 
centration, is  that  of  the  natural  crystalline  rocks ;  and  that, 
by  having  reduced  our  wall  into  the  shape  of  shafts,  we  may 
be  enabled  to  avail  ourselves  of  this  better  material,  and  to 
exchange  cemented  bricks  for  crystallised  blocks  of  stone. 
Therefore,  the  general  idea  of  a  perfect  shaft  is  that  of  a  single 
stone  hewn  into  a  form  more  or  less  elongated  and  cylindrical. 
Under  this  form,  or  at  least  under  the  ruder  one  of  a  long 
stone  set  upright,  the  conception  of  true  shafts  appears  first 
to  have  occurred  to  the  human  mind ;  for  the  reader  must 
note  this  carefully,  once  for  all,  it  does  not  in  the  least  follow 
that  the  order  of  architectural  features  which  is  most  reason- 
able in  their  arrangement,  is  most  probable  in  their  invention. 
I  have  theoretically  deduced  shafts  from  walls,  but  shafts  were 
never  so  reasoned  out  in  architectural  practice.  The  man  who 
first  propped  a  thatched  roof  with  poles  was  the  discoverer  oi 
their  principle ;  and  he  who  first  hewed  a  long  stone  into  a 
cylinder,  the  perfecter  of  their  practice. 

§  n.  It  is  clearly  necessary  that  shafts  of  this  kind  (we  wiij 
call  them,  for  convenience,  block  shafts)  should  be  composed 


THE  SHAFT.  98 

of  stone  not  liable  to  flaws  or  fissures  ;  and  therefore  that  we 
must  no  longer  continue  our  argument  as  if  it  were  always 
possible  to  do  what  is  to  be  done  in  the  best  way  ;  for  the 
style  of  a  national  architecture  may  evidently  depend,  in  great 
measure  upon  the  nature  of  the  rocks  of  the  country. 

Our  own  English  rocks,  which  supply  excellent  building 
stone  from  their  thin  and  easily  divisible  beds,  are  for  the 
most  part  entirely  incapable  of  being  worked  into  shafts  of  any 
size,  except  only  the  granites  and  whinstones,  whose  hardness 
renders  them  intractable  for  ordinary  purposes ; — and  English 
architecture  therefore  supplies  no  instances  of  the  block  shaft 
applied  on  an  extensive  scale  ;  while  the  facility  of  obtaining 
large  masses  of  marble  has  in  Greece  and  Italy  been  partly  the 
cause  of  the  adoption  of  certain  noble  types  of  architectural 
form  peculiar  to  those  countries,  or,  when  occurring  elsewhere, 
derived  from  them. 

We  have  not,  however,  in  reducing  our  walls  to  shafts,  cal- 
culated on  the  probabilities  of  our  obtaining  better  materials 
than  those  of  which  the  walls  were  built ;  and  we  shall  there- 
fore first  consider  the  form  of  shaft  which  will  be  best  when 
we  have  the  best  materials  ;  and  then  consider  how  far  we  can 
imitate,  or  how  far  it  will  be  wise  to  imitate,  this  form  with 
any  materials  we  can  obtain. 

§  m.  Now  as  I  gave  the  reader  the  ground,  and  the  stones, 
that  he  might  for  himself  find  out  how  to  build  his  wall,  I 
shall  give  him  the  block  of  marble,  and  the  chisel,  that  he  may 
himself  find  out  how  to  shape  his  column.  Let  him  suppose 
the  elongated  mass,  so  given  him,  rudely  hewn  to  the  thick- 
ness which  he  has  calculated  will  be  proportioned  to  the  weight 
it  has  to  carry.  The  conditions  of  stability  will  require  that 
some  allowance  be  made  in  finishing  it  for  any  chance  of  slight 
disturbance  or  subsidence  of  the  ground  below,  and  that,  as 
everything  must  depend  on  the  uprightness  of  the  shaft,  as 
little  chance  should  be  left  as  possible  of  its  being  thrown  off 
its  balance.  It  will  therefore  be  prudent  to  leave  it  slightly 
thicker  at  the  base  than  at  the  top.  This  excess  of  diameter 
at  the  base  being  determined,  the  reader  is  to  ask  himself  how 
most  easily  and  simply  to  smooth  the  column  from  one  extrwa* 


94 


THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 


ity  to  the  other.     To  cut  it  into  a  true  straight-sided  cons 
would  be  a  matter  of  much  trouble  ancTnicety,  and  woulcLia- 

eur  the  continual  risk  of  chipping  into  it  too  deep.     "Why  not 
leave  .some  room  for  a  chance   strokeT  work  it  slightly, 
smooth  f.J 


two  extremities  ?  you  will  save  much  trouble  and  time,  and 
the  shaft  will  be  all  the  stronger. 

This  is  accordingly  the  natural  form  of  a  detached  block 
shaft,  Jt  is  the  best.  No  other  will  ever  be  so  agreeable  to 
Jihejrnind  or  eye.  I  do  not  mean  that  it  is  not  capable  oi 
more  refined  execution,  or  of  the  application  of  some  of  the 


B 


/.. 


Fio.  XIII. 

laws  of  aesthetic  beauty,  but  that  itjg_the  best  recipient  oj 
execution  and  subject  of  law  ;  better  in  either  case  than  if  you 
had  taken  more  pains,  and  cut  it  straight 

§  rv.  You  will  observe,  however,  that  the  convexity  is  to  be 
very  slight,  and  that  the  shaft  is  not  to  bulge  in  the  centre, 
but  to  taper  from  the  root  in  a  curved  line  ;  the  peculiar  char- 
acter of  the  curve  you  will  discern  better  by  exaggerating,  in 
a  diagram,  the  conditions  of  its  sculpture. 

Let  a,  a,  6,  6,  at  A,  Fig.  Xm.,  be  the  rough  block  of  the 
shaft,  laid  on  the  ground  ;  and  as  thick  as  you  can  by  any 
chance  require  it  to  be  ;  you  will  leave  it  of  this  full  thickness 
at  iis  base  at  A,  but  at  the  other  end  you  will  mark  off  upon  it 
the  diameter  c,  d,  which  you  intend  it  to  have  at  the  summit : 
Vx>u  will  then  take  your  mallet  and  chisel,  and  working  from  •:• 


THE  SHAFT.  95 

and  d  you  will  roughly  knock  off  the  corners  shaded  in  the 
figure,  so  as  to  reduce  the  shaft  to  the  figure  described  by  the 
inside  lines  in  A  and  the  outside  lines  in  B  ;  you  then  proceed 
to  smooth  it,  you  chisel  away  the  shaded  parts  in  B,  and  leave 
your  finished  shaft  of  the  form  of  the  inside  lines  e,  g,f,  h. 

The  result  of  this  operation  will  be  of  course  that  the  shaft 
tapers  faster  towards  the  top  than  it  does  near  the  ground. 
Observe  this  carefully  ;  it  is  a  point  of  great  future  importance. 

§  v.  So  far  of  the  shape  of  detached  or  block  shafts.  We 
can  carry  the  type  no  farther  on  merely  structural  considera- 
tions :  let  us  pass  to  the  shaft  of  inferior  materials. 

Unfortunately,  in  practice,  this  step  must  be  soon  made. 
It  is  alike  difficult  to  obtain,  transport,  and  raise,  block  shafts 
more  than  ten  or  twelve  feet  long,  except  in  remarkable  posi- 
tions, and  as  pieces  of  singular  magnificence.  Large  pillars 
are  therefore  always  composed  of  more  than  one  block  of 
stone.  Such  pillars  are  either  jointed  like  basalt  columns,  and 
composed  of  solid  pieces  of  stone  set  one  abore  another  ;  or 
they  are  filled  up  towers,  built  of  small  stones  cemented  into 
a  mass,  with  more  or  less  of  regularity  :  Keep  this  distinction 
carefully  in  mind,  it  is  of  great  importance  ;  for  the  jointed 
column,  every  stone  composing  which,  however  thin,  is  (so  to 
speak)  a  complete  slice  of  the  shaft,  is  just  as  strong  as  the 
block  pillar  of  one  stone,  so  long  as  no  forces  are  brought  into 
action  upon  it  which  would  have  a  tendency  to  cause  horizon- 
tal dislocation.  But  the  pillar  which  is  built  as  a  filled-up 
tower  is  of  course  liable  to  fissure  in  any  direction,  if  its 
cement  give  way. 

But,  in  either  case,  it  is  evident  that  all  constructive  reason 
of  the  curved  contour  is  at  once  destroyed.  Far  from  being 
an  easy  or  natural  procedure,  the  fitting  of  each  portion  of 
the  curve  to  its  fellow,  in  the  separate  stones,  would  require 
painful  care  and  considerable  masonic  skill ;  while,  in  the  case 
of  the  filled-up  tower,  the  curve  outwards  would  be  even 
unsafe  ;  for  its  greatest  strength  (and  that  the  more  in  pro- 
portion to  its  careless  building)  lies  in  its  bark,  or  shell  of 
outside  stone  ;  and  this,  if  curved  outwards,  would  at  onee 
burst  outwards,  if  heavily  loaded  above. 


96  TBS  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

If,  therefore,  the  curved  outline  be  ever  retained  in  suoh 
shafts,  it  must  be  in  obedience  to  aesthetic  laws  only. 

§  VL  But  farther.  Not  only  the  curvature,  but  even  the 
tapering  by  straight  lines,  would  be  somewhat  difficult  of 
execution  in  the  pieced  column.  Where,  indeed,  the  entire 
shaft  is  composed  of  four  or  five  blocks  set  one  upon  another, 
the  diameters  may  be  easily  determined  at  the  successive 
joints,  and  the  stones  chiselled  to  the  same  slope.  But  this 
becomes  sufficiently  troublesome  when  the  joints  are  numer- 
ous, so  that  the  pillar  is  like  a  pile  of  cheeses  ;  or  when  it  is 
to  be  built  of  small  and  irregular  stones.  We  should  be 
naturally  led,  in  the  one  case,  to  cut  all  the  cheeses  to  the 
same  diameter  ;  in  the  other  to  build  by  the  plumb-line  ;  and 
m  both  to  give  up  the  tapering  altogether. 

§  VH.  Farther.  Since  the  chance,  in  the  one  case,  of  hori- 
zontal dislocation,  in  the  other,  of  irregular  fissure,  is  much 
increased  by  the  composition  of  the  shaft  out  of  joints  or 
small  stones,  a  larger  bulk  of  shaft  is  required  to  carry  the 
given  weight ;  and,  cceteris  paribus,  jointed  and  cemented 
shafts  must  be  thicker  in  proportion  to  the  weight  they  carry 
than  those  which  are  of  one  block. 

We  have  here  evidently  natural  causes  of  a  very  marked 
division  in  schools  of  architecture  :  one  group  composed  of 
buildings  whose  shafts  are  either  of  a  single  stone  or  of  few 
joints  ;  the  shafts,  therefore,  being  gracefully  tapered,  and 
reduced  by  successive  experiments  to  the  narrowest  possible 
diameter  proportioned  to  the  weight  they  carry  :  and  the 
other  group  embracing  those  buildings  whose  shafts  are  of 
many  joints  or  of  small  stones ;  shafts  which  are  therefore 
not  tapered,  and  rather  thick  and  ponderous  in  proportion  to 
the  weight  they  cany  ;  the  latter  school  being  evidently  some- 
what imperfect  and  inelegant  as  compared  with  the  former. 

It  may  perhaps  appear,  also,  that  this  arrangement  of  the 
materials  in  cylindrical  shafts  at  all  would  hardly  have  sug- 
gested itself  to  a  people  who  possessed  no  large  blocks  out  of 
which  to  hew  them  ;  and  that  the  shaft  built  of  many  pieces 
is  probably  derived  from,  and  imitative  of  the  shaft  hewn 
from  few  or  from  one. 


TUB  SHAFT.  97 

§  vm.  If,  therefore,  you  take  a  good  geological  map  of 
Europe,  and  lay  your  finger  upon  the  spots  where  volcanic 
influences  supply  either  travertin  or  marble  in  accessible  and 
available  masses,  you  will  probably  mark  the  points  where 
the  types  of  the  first  school  have  been  originated  and  devel- 
oped. If,  in  the  next  place,  you  will  mark  the  districts  where 
broken  and  rugged  basalt  or  whinstone,  or  slaty  sandstone, 
supply  materials  on  easier  terms  indeed,  but  fragmentary  and 
unmanageable,  you  will  probably  distinguish  some  of  the 
birthplaces  of  the  derivative  and  less  graceful  school.  You 
will,  in  the  first  case,  lay  your  finger  on  Peestum,  Agrigentum, 
and  Athens ;  in  the  second,  on  Durham  and  Lindisfarne. 

The  shafts  of  the  great  primal  school  are,  indeed,  in  their 
first  form,  as  massy  as  those  of  the  other,  and  the  tendency  of 
both  is  to  continual  diminution  of  their  diameters  :  but  in  the 
first  school  it  is  a  true  diminution  in  the  thickness  of  the  inde- 
pendent pier ;  in  the  last,  it  is  an  apparent  diminution,  obtained 
by  giving  it  the  appearance  of  a  group  of  minor  piers.  The 
distinction,  however,  with  which  we  are  concerned  is  not  that 
of  slenderness,  but  of  vertical  or  curved  contour  ;  and  we  may 
note  generally  that  while  throughout  the  whole  range  of 
Northern  work,  the  perpendicular  shaft  appears  in  continually 
clearer  development,  throughout  every  group  which  has  inher- 
ited the  spirit  of  the  Greek,  the  shaft  retains  its  curved  or 
tapered  form;  and  the  occurrence  of  the  vertical  detached  shaft 
may  at  all  times,  in  European  architecture,  be  regarded  as  one 
of  the  most  important  collateral  evidences  of  Northern  influence. 

§  ix.  It  is  necessary  to  limit  this  observation  to  European 
architecture,  because  the  Egyptian  shaft  is  often  untapered, 
like  the  Northern.  It  appears  that  the  Central  Southern,  or 
Greek  shaft,  was  tapered  or  curved  on  aesthetic  rather  than 
constructive  principles  ;  and  the  Egyptian  which  precedes, 
and  the  Northern  which  follows  it,  are  both  vertical,  the  one 
because  the  best  form  had  not  been  discovered,  the  other 
because  it  could  not  be  attained.  Both  are  in  a  certain  degree 
barbaric  ;  and  both  .possess  in  combination  and  in  their  orna- 
ments a  power  altogether  different  from  that  of  the  Greek 
shaft,  and  at  least  as  impressive  if  not  as  admirable. 

Stones  of  Venice — Vol.  I. — 5 


98  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

§  x.  We  have  hitherto  spoken  of  shafts  as  if  their  numbe* 
were  fixed,  and  only  their  diameter  variable  according  to  the 
weight  to  be  borne.  But  this  supposition  is  evidently  gratu- 
itous ;  for  the  same  weight  may  be  carried  either  by  many 
and  slender,  or  by  few  and  massy  shafts.  If  the  reader  will 
look  back  to  Fig.  IX.,  he  will  find  the  number  of  shafts  into 
which  the  wall  was  reduced  to  be  dependent  altogether  upon 
the  length  of  the  spaces  a,  b,  a,  b,  &c.,  a  length  which  was  ar- 
bitrarily fixed.  We  are  at  liberty  to  make  these  spaces  of 
what  length  we  choose,  and,  in  so  doing,  to  increase  the  num- 
ber and  diminish  the  diameter  of  the  shafts,  or  vice  versd. 

§  xi.  Supposing  the  materials  are  in  each  case  to  be  of  the 
0ame  kind,  the  choice  is  in  great  part  at  the  architect's 
discretion,  only  there  is  a  limit  on  the  one  hand  to  the  multi- 
plication of  the  slender  shaft,  in  the  inconvenience  of  the  nar- 
rowed interval,  and  on  the  other,  to  the  enlargement  of  the 
massy  shaft,  in  the  loss  of  breadth  to  the  building.*  That  will 
be  commonly  the  best  proportion  which  is  a  natural  mean  be- 
tween the  two  limits ;  leaning  to  the  side  of  grace  or  of  gran- 
deur according  to  the  expressional  intention  of  the  work.  I 
say,  commonly  the  best,  because,  in  some  cases,  this  expres- 
eional  invention  may  prevail  over  all  other  considerations,  and 
a  column  of  unnecessary  bulk  or  fantastic  slightness  be  adopted 
in  order  to  strike  the  spectator  with  awe  or  with  surprise,  f 
The  architect  is,  however,  rarely  in  practice  compelled  to  use 
one  kind  of  material  only ;  and  his  choice  lies  frequently  be- 
tween the  employment  of  a  larger  number  of  solid  and  perfect 
small  shafts,  or  a  less  number  of  pieced  and  cemented  large 
ones.  It  is  often  possible  to  obtain  from  quarries  near  at  hand, 
blocks  which  might  be  cut  into  shafts  eight  or  twelve  feet 

*  In  saying  this,  it  is  assumed  that  the  interval  is  one  which  is  to  be 
traversed  by  men  ;  and  that  a  certain  relation  of  the  shafts  and  interval* 
to  the  size  of  the  human  figure  is  therefore  necessary.  When  shafts  are 
•sed  in  the  upper  stories  of  buildings,  or  on  a  scale  which  ignores  all  re- 
lation to  the  human  figure,  no  such  relative  limits  exist  either  to  slender- 
ness  or  solidity. 

f  Vide  the  interesting  discussion  of  this  point  in  Mr.  Fergusson'g  ac- 
count of  the  Temple  of  Karnak,  "Principles  of  Beauty  in  Art,"  p.  219. 


THE  SHAFT.  99 

i'ong  and  four  or  five  feet  round,  when  larger  shafts  can  only 
be  obtained  in  distant  localities  ;  and  the  question  then  is  be- 
tween the  perfection  of  smaller  features  and  the  imperfection 
of  larger.  We  shall  find  numberless  instances  in  Italy  in 
which  the  first  choice  has  been  boldly,  and  I  think  most  wisely 
made  ;  and  magnificent  buildings  have  been  composed  of  sys- 
tems of  small  but  perfect  shafts,  multiplied  and  superimposed. 
So  long  as  the  idea  of  the  symmetry  of  a  perfect  shaft 
remained  in  the  builder's  mind,  his  choice  could  hardly  be  di- 
rected otherwise,  and  the  adoption  of  the  built  and  tower-like 
shaft  appears  to  have  been  the  result  of  a  loss  of  this  sense  of 
symmetry  consequent  on  the  employment  of  intractable  ma- 
terials. 

§  xii.  But  farther :  we  have  up  to  this  point  spoken  of 
shafts  as  always  set  in  ranges,  and  at  equal  intervals  from  each 
other.  But  there  is  no  necessity  for  this  ;  and  material  dif- 
ferences may  be  made  in  their  diameters  if  two  or  more  be 
grouped  so  as  to  do  together  the  work  of  one  large  one,  and 
that  within,  or  nearly  within,  the  space  which  the  larger  one 
would  have  occupied. 

§  xm.  Let  A,  B,  c,  Fig.  XIV.,  be  three  surfaces,  of  which  B 
and  c  contain  equal  areas,  and  each  of  them  double  that  of  A  ; 
then  supposing  them  all  loaded  to  the  same  height,  B  or  c 
would  receive  twice  as  much  weight  as  A  ;  therefore,  to  carry 
B  or  c  loaded,  we  should  need  a  shaft  of  twice  the  strength 
needed  to  carry  A.  Let  s  be  the  shaft  required  to  carry  A, 
and  sa  the  shaft  required  to  carry  B  or  c  ;  then  s  may  be  di- 
vided into  two  shafts,  or  sa  into  four  shafts,  as  at  ss,  all  equal 
in  area  or  solid  contents  ;*  and  the  mass  A  might  be  carried 
safely  by  two  of  them,  and  the  masses  B  and  o,  each  by  four 
of  them. 

Now  if  we  put  the  single  shafts  each  under  the  centre  of 
the  mass  they  have  to  bear,  as  represented  by  the  shaded 
circles  at  a,  a2,  a3,  the  masses  A  and  o  are  both  of  them  very  ill 
supported,  and  even  B  insufficiently  ;  but  apply  the  four  and 

*  I  have  assumed  that  the  strength  of  similar  shafts  of  equal  heigh; 
la  as  the  squares  of  their  diameters ;  which,  though  not  actually  a  cor- 
Not  expression,  is  sufficiently  go  i'or  all  our  present  purposes. 


100 


THE  STONES  OF  VENIQE. 


the  two  shafts  as  at  b, 
b..,  b3,  and  they  are  sup- 
ported satisfactorily. 
Let  the  weight  on  each 
of  the  masses  be  doub- 
led, and  the  shafts 
doubled  in  area,  then 
we  shall  have  such  ar- 
rangements as  those  at 
c,  c2,  c3 ;  and  if  again 
the  shafts  and  weight 
be  doubled,  we  shall 
have  d,  d^,  d3. 

§  xrv.  Now  it  will  at 
once  be  observed  that 
the  arrangement  of  the 
shafts  in  the  series  of  B 
and  c  is  always  exactly 
the  same  in  their  rela- 
tions to  each  other  ; 
only  the  group  of  B  is 
set  evenly,  and  the 
group  of  c  is  set  ob- 
liquely,— the  one  car- 
rying a  square,  the 
other  a  cross. 

You  have  in  these 
two  series  the  primal 
representations  of 
shaft  arrangement  in 
the  Southern  and  Nor- 
thern schools ;  while 
the  group  b,  of  which  &„ 
is  the  double,  set  even- 
ly, and  tf,  the  double, 
set  obliquely,  is  com- 
mon to  both.  The  reader  will  be  surprised  to  find  ho\* 
all  tiie  complex  and  varied  forms  of  shaft  arrangement  wiU 


Fio.   XIV. 


THE  SHAFT.  101 

range  themselves  into  one  or  other  of  these  groups ;  and 
still  more  surprised  to  find  the  oblique  or  cross  set  system 
on  the  one  hand,  and  the  square  set  system  on  the  other, 
severally  distinctive  of  Southern  and  Northern  work.  The 
dome  of  St.  Mark's,  and  the  crossing  of  the  nave  and  tran- 
septs of  Beauvais,  are  both  carried  by  square  piers ;  but 
the  piers  of  St.  Mark's  are  set  square  to  the  walls  of  the 
church,  and  those  of  Beauvais  obliquely  to  them  :  and  this 
difference  is  even  a  more  essential  one  than  that  between 
the  smooth  surface  of  the  one  and  the  reedy  complication  of 
the  other.  The  two  squares  here  in  the  margin  (Fig.  XV.)  are 
exactly  of  the  same  size,  but  their 
expression  is  altogether  different, 
and  in  that  difference  lies  one  of 
the  most  subtle  distinctions  be- 
tween the  Gothic  and  Greek  spirit, 
— from  the  shaft,  which  bears  the 
building,  to  the  smallest  decora- 
tion. The  Greek  square  is  by  preference  set  evenly,  the  Gothic 
square  obliquely  ;  and  that  so  constantly,  that  wherever  we 
find  the  level  or  even  square  occurring  as  a  prevailing  form, 
either  in  plan  or  decoration,  in  early  northern  work,  there  we 
may  at  least  suspect  the  presence  of  a  southern  or  Greek  in- 
fluence ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  wherever  the  oblique  square 
is  prominent  in  the  south,  we  may  confidently  look  for  farther 
evidence  of  the  influence  of  the  Gothic  architects.  The  rule 
must  not  of  course  be  pressed  far  when,  in  either  school,  there 
has  been  determined  search  for  every  possible  variety  of  deco- 
rative figures  ;  and  accidental  circumstances  may  reverse  the 
usual  system  in  special  cases  ;  but  the  evidence  drawn  from 
this  character  is  coDaterally  of  the  highest  value,  and  the  trac- 
ing it  out  is  a  pursuit  of  singular  interest.  Thus,  the  Pisan 
Romanesque  might  in  an  instant  be  pronounced  to  have  been 
formed  under  some  measure  of  Lombardic  influence,  from  the 
oblique  squares  set  under  its  arches ;  and  in  it  we  have  the 
spirit  of  northern  Gothic  affecting  details  of  the  sotithern  ; — 
obliquity  of  square,  in  magnificently  shafted  Romanesque. 
At  Monza,  on  the  other  hand,  the  levelled  square  is  the  char 


102 


THE  STONES  OP   VENICE. 


acteristic  figure  of  the  entire  decoration  of  the  fayade  of  thi 
Duomo,  eminently  giving  it  southern  character ;  but  the  de- 
tails are  derived  almost  entirely  from  the  northern  Gothic. 
Here  then  we  have  southern  spirit  and  northern  detail.  O! 
the  cruciform  outline  of  the  load  of  the  shaft,  a  still  more 
positive  test  of  northern  work,  we  shall  have  more  to  say  in 
the  28th  Chapter ;  we  must  at  present  note  certain  farther 
changes  in  the  form  of  the  grouped  shaft,  which  open  the 
way  to  every  branch  of  its  endless  combinations,  southern  or 
northern. 

§  xv.  1.  If  the  group  at  d3,  Fig.  XIV.,  be  taken  from  under 

its  loading,  and  have  its  centre 
filled  up,  it  will  become  a  quatre- 
foil ;  and  it  will  represent,  in 
their  form  of  most  frequent  oc- 
currence, a  family  of  shafts, 
whose  plans  are  foiled  figures, 
trefoils,  quatrefoils,  cinquefoils, 
&c.  ;  of  which  a  trefoiled  ex- 
ample, from  the  Frari  at  Venic% 
is  the  third  in  Plate  H,  and  a 
quatrefoil  from  Salisbury  the 
eighth.  It  is  rare,  however,  to 
find  in  Gothic  architecture 
shafts  of  this  family  composed  of 
a  large  number  of  foils,  because 
multifoiled  shafts  are  seldom  true 
grouped  shafts,  but  are  rather 
canaliculated  conditions  of  massy 
piers.  The  representatives  of 
this  family  may  be  considered 
as  the  quatrefoil  on  the  Gothic 
side  of  the  Alps  ;  and  the  Egyptian  multifoiled  shaft  on  the 
south,  approximating  to  the  general  type,  b,  Fig.  XVL 

§  xvi.  Exactly  opposed  to  this  great  family  is  that  of  shafts 
which  have  concave  curves  instead  of  convex  on  each  of  their 
sides ;  but  these  are  not,  properly  speaking,  grouped  shafts 
at  all,  and  their  proper  place  is  among  decorated  piers  ;  only 


Fio.   XVI. 


THE  SHAFT.  108 

they  must  be  named  here  in  order  to  mark  their  exact  oppo* 
sition  to  the  foiled  system.  In  their  simplest  form,  repre- 
sented by  c,  Fig.  XVI.,  they  have  no  representatives  in  good 
architecture,  being  evidently  weak  and  meagre  ;  but  approxi- 
mations to  them  exist  in  late  Gothic,  as  in  the  vile  cathedra] 
of  Orleans,  and  in  modern  cast-iron  shafts.  In  their  fully  de- 
veloped form  they  are  the  Greek  Doric,  a,  Fig.  XVL,  and 
occur  in  caprices  of  the  Romanesque  and  Italian  Gothic :  d, 
Fig.  XVL,  is  from  the  Duomo  of  Monza. 

§  XYIL  2.  Between  c3  and  d3  of  Fig.  XIV.  there  may  be 
evidently  another  condition,  represented  at  6,  Plate  H,  and 
formed  by  the  insertion  of  a  central  shaft  within  the  four  ex- 
ternal ones.  This  central  shaft  we  may  suppose  to  expand  in 
proportion  to  the  weight  it  has  to  carry.  If  the  external 
shafts  expand  in  the  same  proportion,  the  entire  form  remains 
unchanged ;  but  if  they  do  not  expand,  they  may  (1)  be 
pushed  out  by  the  expanding  shaft,  or  (2)  be  gradually  swal- 
lowed up  in  its  expansion,  as  at  4,  Plate  IL  If  they  are 
pushed  out,  they  are  removed  farther  from  each  other  by 
every  increase  of  the  central  shaft ;  and  others  may  then  be 
introduced  in  the  vacant  spaces ;  giving,  on  the  plan,  a  cen- 
tral orb  with  an  ever  increasing  host  of  satellites,  10,  Plate 
n.  ;  the  satellites  themselves  often  varying  in  size,  and  per- 
haps quitting  contact  with  the  central  shaft.  Suppose  them 
in  any  of  their  conditions  fixed,  while  the  inner  shaft  expands, 
and  they  will  be  gradually  buried  in  it,  forming  more  com- 
plicated conditions  of  4,  Plate  IL  The  combinations  are  thus 
altogether  infinite,  even  supposing  the  central  shaft  to  be  cir- 
cular only  ;  but  their  infinity  is  multiplied  by  many  other  in- 
finities when  the  central  shaft  itself  becomes  square  or  cross- 
let  on  the  section,  or  itself  multif oiled  (8,  Plate  XL)  with 
satellite  shafts  eddying  about  its  recesses  and  angles,  in  every 
possible  relation  of  attraction.  Among  these  endless  condi- 
tions of  change,  the  choice  of  the  architect  is  free,  this  only 
being  generally  noted  :  that,  as  the  whole  value  of  such  piera 
depends,  first,  upon  their  being  wisely  fitted  to  the  weight 
above  them,  and,  secondly,  upon  their  all  working  together  • 
and  one  noi  failing  the  rest,  perhaps  to  the  ruin  of  all,  ho 


104  THE  STONES  OP  VENICE. 

must  never  multiply  shafts  without  visible  cause  in  the  dispo- 
sition of  members  superimposed  :  *  and  in  his  multiplied 
group  he  should,  if  possible,  avoid  a  marked  separation  be- 
tween the  large  central  shaft  and  its  satellites  ;  for  if  this  ex- 
ist, the  satellites  will  either  appear  useless  altogether,  or  else, 
which  is  worse,  they  will  look  as  if  they  were  meant  to  keep 
the  central  shaft  together  by  wiring  or  caging  it  in  ;  like  iron 
rods  set  round  a  supple  cylinder, — a  fatal  fault  in  the  piers  of 
Westminster  Abbey,  and,  in  a  less  degree,  in  the  noble  nave 
of  the  cathedral  of  Bourges. 

§  xvm.  While,  however,  we  have  been  thus  subdividing  or 
assembling  our  shafts,  how  far  has  it  been  possible  to  retain 
their  curved  or  tapered  outline  ?  So  long  as  they  remain  dis- 
tinct and  equal,  however  close  to  each  other,  the  independent 
curvature  may  evidently  be  retained.  But  when  once  they 
come  in  contact,  it  is  equally  evident  that  a  column,  formed 
of  shafts  touching  at  the  base  and  separate  at  the  top,  would 
appear  as  if  in  the  very  act  of  splitting  asunder.  Hence,  in  all 
the  closely  arranged  groups,  and  especially  those  with  a  cen- 
tral shaft,  the  tapering  is  sacrificed  ;  and  with  less  cause  for 
regret,  because  it  was  a  provision  against  subsidence  or  dis- 
tortion, which  cannot  now  take  place  with  the  separate  mem- 
bers of  the  group.  Evidently,  the  work,  if  safe  at  all,  must 
be  executed  with  far  greater  accuracy  and  stability  when  ita 
supports  are  so  delicately  arranged,  than  would  be  implied  by 
such  precaution.  In  grouping  shafts,  therefore,  a  true  per- 
pendicular line  is,  in  nearly  all  cases,  given  to  the  pier  ;  and 
the  reader  will  anticipate  that  the  two  schools,  which  we  have 
already  found  to  be  distinguished,  the  one  by  its  perpendic- 
ular and  pieced  shafts,  and  the  other  by  its  curved  and  block 
shafts,  will  be  found  divided  also  in  their  employment  of 
grouped  shafts  ; — it  is  likely  that  the  idea  of  grouping,  how- 
ever suggested,  will  be  fully  entertained  and  acted  upon  by 
the  one,  but  hesitatingly  by  the  other  ;  and  that  we  shall  find, 
on  the  one  hand,  buildings  displaying  sometimes  massy  piers 

*  How  far  this  condition  limits  the  system  of  shaft  grouping  we  shal) 
•ee  presently.  The  reader  must  remember,  that  we  at  present  reaaov 
respecting  shafts  in  the  abstract  only. 


THE  SHAFT.  108 

of  small  stones,  sometimes  clustered  piers  of  rich  complexity, 
and  on  the  other,  more  or  less  regular  succession  of  block 
shafts,  each  treated  as  entirely  independent  of  those  around  it 

§  xrs.  Farther,  the  grouping  of  shafts  once  admitted,  it  is 
probable  that  the  complexity  and  richness  of  such  arrange- 
ments would  recommend  them  to  the  eye,  and  induce  their 
frequent,  even  their  unnecessary  introduction  ;  so  that  weight 
which  might  have  been  borne  by  a  single  pillar,  would  be  in 
preference  supported  by  four  or  five.  And  if  the  stone  of  the 
country,  whose  fragmentary  character  first  occasioned  the 
building  and  piecing  of  the  large  pier,  were  yet  in  beds  con- 
sistent enough  to  supply  shafts  of  veiy  small  diameter,  the 
strength  and  simplicity  of  such  a  construction  might  justify 
it,  as  well  as  its  grace.  The  fact,  however,  is  that  the  charm 
which  the  multiplication  of  line  possesses  for  the  eye  has 
always  been  one  of  the  chief  ends  of  the  work  in  the  grouped 
schools ;  and  that,  so  far  irorn  employing  the  grouped  piers 
in  order  to  the  introduction  of  very  slender  block  shafts,  the 
most  common  form  in  which  such  piers  occur  is  that  of  a  solid 
jointed  shaft,  each  joint  being  separately  cut  into  the  contour 
of  the  group  required. 

§  xx.  We  have  hitherto  supposed  that  all  grouped  or  clus- 
tered shafts  have  been  the  result  or  the  expression  of  an  actual 
gathering  and  binding  together  of  detached  shafts.  This  is 
not,  however,  always  so :  for  some  clustered  shafts  are  little 
more  than  solid  piers  channelled  on  the  surface,  and  their  form 
appears  to  be  merely  the  development  of  some  longitudinal 
furrowing  or  striation  on  the  original  single  shaft.  That  clus- 
tering or  striation,  whichever  we  choose  to  call  it,  is  in  this 
case  a  decorative  feature,  and  to  be  considered  under  the  head 
of  decoration. 

§  xxi.  It  must  be  evident  to  the  reader  at  a  glance,  that  the 
real  serviceableness  of  any  of  these  grouped  arrangements 
must  depend  upon  the  relative  shortness  of  the  shafts,  and 
that,  when  the  whole  pier  is  so  lofty  that  its  minor  members 
become  mere  reeds  or  rods  of  stone,  those  minor  members 
can  no  longer  be  charged  with  any  considerable  weight.  And 
Uie  fact  is,  that  in  the  most  complicated  Gothic  arrangement^ 


106  THE  STONES  OP  VENICK. 

when  the  pier  Is  tall  and  its  satellites  stand  clear  of  it,  no  real 
work  is  given  them  to  do,  and  they  might  all  be  removed 
without  endangering  the  building.  They  are  merely  the  ex- 
pression of  a  great  consistent  system,  and  are  in  architecture 
what  is  often  found  in  animal  anatomy, — a  bone,  or  process 
of  a  bone,  useless,  under  the  ordained  circumstances  of  its  life 
to  the  particular  animal  in  which  it  is  found,  and  slightly  de- 
veloped, but  yet  distinctly  existent,  and  representing,  for  the 
sake  of  absolute  consistency,  the  same  bone  in  its  appointed, 
and  generally  useful,  place,  either  in  skeletons  of  all  animals, 
or  in  the  genus  to  which  the  animal  itself  belongs. 

§  XXIL  Farther  :  as  it  is  not  easy  to  obtain  pieces  of  stone 
long  enough  for  these  supplementary  shafts  (especially  as  it  is 
always  unsafe  to  lay  a  stratified  stone  with  its  beds  upright), 
they  have  been  frequently  composed  of  two  or  more  ghort 
shafts  set  upon  each  other,  and  to  conceal  the  unsightly  junc- 
tion, a  flat  stone  has  been  interposed,  carved  into  certain 
mouldings,  which  have  the  appearance  of  a  ring  on  the  shaft. 
Now  observe  :  the  whole  pier  was  the  gathering  of  the  whole 
wall,  the  base  gathers  into  base,  the  veil  into  the  shaft,  and 
the  string  courses  of  the  veil  gather  into  these  rings ;  and 
when  this  is  clearly  expressed,  and  the  rings  do  indeed  corre- 
spond with  the  string  courses  of  the  wall  veil,  they  are  per- 
fectly admissible  and  even  beautiful ;  but  otherwise,  and  oc- 
curring, as  they  do  in  the  shafts  of  Westminster,  in  the 
middle  of  continuous  lines,  they  are  but  sorry  make-shifts, 
and  of  late  since  gas  has  been  invented,  have  become  espec- 
ially offensive  from  their  unlucky  resemblance  to  the  joints  of 
gas-pipes,  or  common  water-pipes.  There  are  two  leaden 
ones,  for  instance,  on  the  left  hand  as  one  enters  the  abbey  at 
Poet's  Corner,  with  their  solderings  and  funnels  looking  ex- 
actly like  rings  and  capitals,  and  most  disrespectfully  mimick- 
ing the  shafts  of  the  abbey,  inside. 

Thus  far  we  have  traced  the  probable  conditions  of  shaft 
structure  in  pure  theory  ;  I  shall  now  lay  before  the  reader 
a  brief  statement  of  the  facts  of  the  thing  in  time  past  and 
present 

§  run    In  the  earliest  and  grandest  shaft  architecture  which 


THE  SHAFT.  107 

we  know,  that  of  Egypt,  we  have  DO  grouped  arrangement*, 
properly  so  called,  but  either  single  and  smooth  shafts,  oi 
richly  reeded  and  furrowed  shafts,  which  represent  the  ex- 
treme conditions  of  a  complicated  group  bound  together  to 
sustain  a  single  mass  ;  and  are  indeed,  without  doubt,  nothing 
else  than  imitations  of  bundles  of  reeds,  or  of  clusters  of  lo» 
tus  :  *  but  in  these  shafts  there  is  merely  the  idea  of  a  group, 
not  the  actual  function  or  structure  of  a  group  ;  they  are  just 
as  much  solid  and  simple  shafts  as  those  which  are  smooth, 
and  merely  by  the  method  of  their  decoration  present  to  the 
eye  the  image  of  a  richly  complex  arrangement. 

§  xxrv.  After  these  we  have  the  Greek  shaft,  less  in  scale, 
and  losing  all  suggestion  or  purpose  of  suggestion  of  complex- 
ity, its  so-called  flutings  being,  visibly  as  actually,  an  external 
decoration. 

§  xxv.  The  idea  of  the  shaft  remains  absolutely  single  in 
the  Roman  and  Byzantine  mind  ;  but  true  grouping  begins  in 
Christian  architecture  by  the  placing  of  two  or  more  separate 
shafts  side  by  side,  each  having  its  own  work  to  do  ;  then 
three  or  four,  still  with  separate  work  ;  then,  by  such  steps  as 
those  above  theoretically  pursued,  the  number  of  the  mem- 
bers increases,  while  they  coagulate  into  a  single  mass  ;  and 
w^  have  finally  a  shaft  apparently  composed  of  thirty,  forty, 
fifty,  or  more  distinct  members  ;  a  shaft  which,  in  the  reality 
of  its  service,  is  as  much  a  single  shaft  as  the  old  Egyptian 
one  ;  but  which  differs  from  the  Egyptian  in  that  all  its  mem- 
bers, how  many  soever,  have  each  individual  work  to  do,  and 
a  separate  rib  of  arch  or  roof  to  carry :  and  thus  the  great 
Christian  truth  of  distinct  services  of  the  individual  soul  is 
typified  in  the  Christian  shaft ;  and  the  old  Egyptian  servi- 
tude of  the  multitudes,  the  servitude  inseparable  from  the 
children  of  Ham,  is  typified  also  in  that  ancient  shaft  of  the 
Egyptians,  which  in  its  gathered  strength  of  the  river  reeds, 
seems,  as  the  sands  of  the  desert  drift  over  its  ruin,  to  be  in- 
tended to  remind  us  for  ever  of  the  end  of  the  association  of 

*  The  capitals  being  formed  by  the  flowers,  or  by  a  representation  ol 
the  bulging  tat  of  the  reeds  at  the  top,  under  the  weight  of  the  ar«ht- 


108  THE  STONES  OP   VENICE. 

the  wicked.  "  Can  the  rush  grow  up  without  mire,  or  the 
flag  grow  without  water  ? — So  are  the  paths  of  all  that  forget 
God  ;  and  the  hypocrite's  hope  shall  perish." 

§  XXVL  Let  the  reader  then  keep  this  distinction  of  the 
three  systems  clearly  in  his  mind  :  Egyptian  system,  an  ap- 
parent cluster  supporting  a  simple  capital  and  single  weight  • 
Greek  and  Roman  system,  single  shaft,  single  weight ;  Gothic 
system,  divided  shafts,  divided  weight :  at  first  actually  and 
simply  divided,  at  last  apparently  and  infinitely  divided ;  so 
that  the  fully  formed  Gothic  shaft  is  a  return  to  the  Egyp- 
tian, but  the  weight  is  divided  in  the  one  and  undivided  in 
the  other. 

§  xxvn.  The  transition  from  the  actual  to  the  apparent 
cluster,  in  the  Gothic,  is  a  question  of  the  most  curious  in- 
terest ;  I  have  thrown  together  the  shaft  sections  in  Plate  II 
to  illustrate  it,  and  exemplify  what  has  been  generally  stated 
above.* 

1.  The  earliest,  the  most  frequent,  perhaps  the  most  beau- 
tiful of  all  the  groups,  is  also  the  simplest ;  the  two  shafts  ar- 
ranged as  at  6  or  c,  (Fig.  XIV.)  above,  bearing  an  oblong 
mass,  and  substituted  for  the  still  earlier  structure  a,  Fig.  XTV. 
In  Plate  XVH  (Chap.  XXVH)  are  three  examples  of  the  tran- 
sition :  the  one  on  the  left,  at  the  top,  is  the  earliest  single- 
shafted  arrangement,  constant  in  the  rough  Romanesque  win- 
dows; a  huge  hammer-shaped  capital  being  employed  to 
sustain  the  thickness  of  the  wall  It  was  rapidly  superseded 
by  the  double  shaft,  as  on  the  right  of  it ;  a  very  early  example 
from  the  cloisters  of  the  Duomo,  Verona.  Beneath,  is  a  most 
elaborate  and  perfect  one  from  St.  Zeno  of  Verona,  where  the 
group  is  twice  complicated,  two  shafts  being  used,  both  with 
quatrefoil  sections.  The  plain  double  shaft,  however,  is  by 
far  the  most  frequent,  both  in  the  Northern  and  Southern 
Gothic,  but  for  the  most  part  early  ;  it  is  very  frequent  in 
cloisters,  and  in  the  singular  one  of  St.  Michael's  Mount,  Nor- 

*  I  have  not  been  at  the  pains  to  draw  the  complicated  piers  in  thi* 
plate  with  absolute  exactitude  to  the  scale  o!  each :  they  are  accurat" 
•nout'h  for  their  purpose  :  those  of  them  respectir  ~  "hicb  we  ghall  hav< 
Cartfe«r  question  will  b«  given  ou  a  mucli  l*rg«r 


» 


•f  x 


PLATE  II. — PLANS  OF  PIEKS 


THE  SHAFT. 


109 


mandy,  a  small  pseudo-arcade  runs  along  between  the  pairs  of 
shafts,  a  miniature  aisle.  The  group  is  employed  on  a  mag- 
nificent scale,  but  ill  proportioned,  for  the  main  piers  of  the 
apse  of  the  cathedral  of  Coutances,  its  purpose  being  to  con. 
ceal  one  shaft  behind  the  other,  and  make  it  appear  to  the 
spectator  from  the  nave  as  if  the  apse  were  sustained  by  sin- 
gle shafts,  of  inordinate  slenderness.  The  attempt  is  ill- 
judged,  and  the  result  unsatisfactory. 

§  xxvin.  2.  When  these   pairs   of   shafts   come   near  each 
other,  as  frequently  at  the  turnings  of  angles  (Fig.  XVIL),  the 


quadruple  group  results,  b  2,  Fig.  XIV.,  of  which  ^ 
the  Lombardic  sculptors  were  excessively  fond,  g 
usually  tying  the  shafts  together  hi  their  centre, 
in  a  lover's  knot.     They  thus  occur  in  Plate  V., 


O  O 


xvm. 


FIG.  XVII. 

St.  Mark's. 


from  the  Broletto  of  Como  ;  at  the 

angle  of  St.  Michele  of  Lucca,  Plate 

XXI.  ;    and  in   the   balustrade   of 

This  is  a  group,  however,  which  I  have  never 

seen  used  on  a  large  scale.* 

§  xxix.  3.  Such  groups,  consolidated  by  a 
small  square  in  their  centre,  form  the  shafts  of 
St.  Zeno,  just  spoken  of,  and  figured  in  Plate 
XVIL,  which  are  among  the  most  interesting 
pieces  of  work  I  know  in  Italy.  I  give  their 
entire  arrangement  in  Fig.  XVHL  :  both  shafts 
have  the  same  section,  but  one  receives  a  half 
turn  as  it  ascends,  giving  it  an  exquisite  spiral 
contour  :  the  plan  of  their  bases,  with  their 
plinth,  is  given  at  2,  Plate  IL  ;  and  note  it  care- 
fully, for  it  is  an  epitome  of  all  that  we  observed 
above,  respecting  the  oblique  and  even  square. 
It  was  asserted  that  the  oblique  belonged  to  the  north,  the 
even  to  the  south :  we  have  here  the  northern  Lombardio 
nation  naturalised  in  Italy,  and,  behold,  the  oblique  and  even 
quatrefoil  linked  together ;  not  confused,  but  actually  linked 
by  a  bar  of  stone,  as  seen  in  Plate  XVH,  under  the  capitals. 

*  The  largest  I  remember  support  a  monument  in  St.  Zeno  of  V«ron»{ 
th»j  are  oi  red  marble,  some  ten  or  twelve  feet  high. 


FIG.  XVIII. 


110  THE  STONES  OF    VENICE. 

4.  Next  to  these,  observe  the  two  groups  of  five  shafts  each, 
5  and  6,  Plate  IL,  one  oblique,  the  other  even.  Both  are 
from  upper  stories ;  the  oblique  one  from  the  triforium  of 
Salisbury  ;  the  even  one  from  the  upper  range  of  shafts  in  the 
fayade  of  St.  Mark's  at  Venice.* 

§  xxx.  Around  these  central  types  are  grouped,  in  Plate  IL, 
four  simple  examples  of  the  satellitic  cluster,  all  of  the  North- 
ern Gothic  :  4,  from  the  Cathedral  of  Amiens ;  7,  from  that 
of  Lyons  (nave  pier) ;  8,  the  same  from  Salisbury ;  10,  from 
the  porch  of  Notre  Dame,  Dijon,  having  satellites  of  three 
magnitudes  :  9  is  one  of  the  piers  between  the  doors  of  the 
same  church,  with  shafts  of  four  magnitudes,  and  is  an  in- 
stance of  the  confusion  of  mind  of  the  Northern  architects 
between  piers  proper  and  jamb  mouldings  (noticed  farther  in 
the  next  chapter,  §  xxxi. ) :  for  this  fig.  9,  which  is  an  angle  at 
the  meeting  of  two  jambs,  is  treated  like  a  rich  independent 
shaft,  and  the  figure  below,  12,  which  is  half  of  a  true  shaft, 
is  treated  like  a  meeting  of  jambs. 

All  these  four  examples  belonging  to  the  oblique  or  North- 
ern system,  the  curious  trefoil  plan,  3,  lies  between  the  two,  as 
the  double  quatrefoil  next  it  unites  the  two.  The  trefoil  is 
from  the  Frari,  Venice,  and  has  a  richly  worked  capital  in  the 
Byzantine  manner, — an  imitation,  I  think,  of  the  Byzantine 
work  by  the  Gothic  builders :  1  is  to  be  compared  with  it, 
being  one  of  the  earliest  conditions  of  the  cross  shaft,  from 
the  atrium  of  St.  Ambrogio  at  Milan.  13  is  the  nave  pier  of 
St.  Michele  at  Pavia,  showing  the  same  condition  more  fully 
developed :  and  11  another  nave  pier  from  Vienne.  on  the 
Rhone,  of  far  more  distinct  Roman  derivation,  for  the  flat 
pilaster  is  set  to  the  nave,  and  is  fluted  like  an  antique  one. 
12  is  the  grandest  development  I  have  ever  seen  of  the  cross 
shaft,  with  satellite  shafts  in  the  nooks  of  it :  it  is  half  of  one 
of  the  great  western  piers  of  the  cathedral  of  Bourges,  meas- 
uring eight  feet  each  side,  thirty-two  round. f  Then  the  on« 

*  The  effect  of  this  last  ia  given  in  Plate  VL  of  the  folio  series. 

f  The  entire  development  of  this  cross  system  in  connection  with  th« 
r»ulting  ribs,  has  been  most  clearly  «xplained  by  Professor  Willia 
Architecture  of  Mid.  Ages,  Chap.  IV.) ;  aud  I  strongly  r«owa*aen4 


THE  SHAFT.  Ill 

below  (15)  is  half  of  a  nave  pier  of  Rouen  Cathedral,  showing 
the  mode  in  which  such  conditions  as  that  of  Dijon  (9)  and 
that  of  Bourges  (12)  were  fused  together  into  forms  of  inex- 
tricable complexity  (inextricable  I  mean  in  the  irregularity  of 
proportion  and  projection,  for  all  of  them  are  easily  resolva- 
ble into  simple  systems  in  connection  with  the  roof  ribs). 
This  pier  of  Rouen  is  a  type  of  the  last  condition  of  the  good 
Gothic  ;  from  this  point  the  small  shafts  begin  to  lose  shape, 
and  run  into  narrow  fillets  and  ridges,  projecting  at  the  same 
time  farther  and  farther  in  weak  tongue-like  sections,  as  de- 
scribed in  the  "Seven  Lamps."  I  have  only  here  given  one 
example  of  this  family,  an  unimportant  but  sufficiently  char- 
acteristic one  (16)  from  St  Gervais  of  Falaise.  One  side  of 
the  nave  of  that  church  is  Norman,  the  other  Flamboyant,  and 
the  two  piers  14  and  16  stand  opposite  each  other.  It  would 
be  useless  to  endeavor  to  trace  farther  the  fantasticism  of 
the  later  Gothic  shafts ;  they  become  mere  aggregations  of 
mouldings  very  sharply  and  finely  cut,  their  bases  at  the 
same  time  running  together  in  strange  complexity  and  their 
capitals  diminishing  and  disappearing.  Some  of  their  condi- 
tions, which,  in  their  rich  striation,  resemble  crystals  of  beryl, 
are  very  massy  and  grand ;  others,  meagre,  harsh,  or  effem- 
inate in  themselves,  are  redeemed  by  richness  and  boldness 
of  decoration  ;  and  I  have  long  had  it  in  my  mind  to  reason 
out  the  entire  harmony  of  this  French  Flamboyant  system, 
and  fix  its  types  and  possible  power.  But  this  inquiry  is 
foreign  altogether  to  our  present  purpose,  and  we  shall  there- 
fore turn  back  from  the  Flamboyant  to  the  Norman  side  of 
the  Falaise  aisle,  resolute  for  the  future  that  all  shafts  of 
which  we  may  have  the  ordering,  shall  be  permitted,  as  with 
wisdom  we  may  also  permit  men  or  cities,  to  gather  them- 
selves into  companies,  or  constellate  themselves  into  clusters, 
but  not  to  fuse  themselves  into  mere  masses  of  nebulous  ag- 
gregation. 

every  reader  who  is  inclined  to  take  pains  in  the  matter,  to  read  that 
chapter.  I  have  been  contented,  in  my  own  text,  to  pursue  the  *b 
•tract  idea  of  shaft  form. 


112  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   CAPITAL. 

§  i.  THE  reader  will  remember  that  in  Chap.  VTL  §  v.  it 
was  said  that  the  cornice  of  the  wall,  being  cut  to  pieces  and 
gathered  together,  formed  the  capital  of  the  column.  We 
have  now  to  follow  it  in  its  transformation. 

We  must,  of  course,  take  our  simplest  form  or  root  of  cor- 
nices (a,  in  Fig.  V.,  above).  We  will  take  X  and  Y  there,  and 
we  must  necessarily  gather  them  together  as  we  did  Xb  and  Yb 
in  Chap.  VH  Look  back  to  the  tenth  paragraph  of  Chap. 
"VII.,  read  or  glance  it  over  again,  substitute  X  and  Y  for  Xb 
and  Yb,  read  capital  for  base,  and,  as  we  said  that  the  capital 
was  the  hand  of  the  pillar,  while  the  base  was  its  foot,  read 
also  fingers  for  toes  ;  and  as  you  look  to  the  plate,  Fig.  XH, 
turn  it  upside  down.  Then  h,  in  Fig.  XIL,  becomes  now  your 
best  general  form  of  block  capital,  as  before  of  block  base. 

§  ii.  You  will  thus  have  a  perfect  idea  of  the  analogies 
between  base  and  capital ;  our  farther  inquiry  is  into  their 
differencea  You  cannot  but  have  noticed  that  when  Fig.  XTT. 
is  turned  upside  down,  the  square  stone  (Y)  looks  too  heavy 
for  the  supporting  stone  (X)  ;  and  that  in  the  profile  of  cornice 
(o  of  Fig.  V.)  the  proportions  are  altogether  different.  You 
will  feel  the  fitness  of  this  in  an  instant  when  you  consider 
that  the  principal  function  of  the  sloping  part  in  Fig.  XTT.  is 
as  a  prop  to  the  pillar  to  keep  it  from  slipping  aside ;  but  the 
function  of  the  sloping  stone  in  the  cornice  and  capital  is  to 
carry  weight  above.  The  thrust  of  the  slope  in  the  one  case 
should  therefore  be  lateral,  in  the  other  upwards. 

§  m.  We  will,  therefore,  take  the  two  figures,  e  and  h  of 
Fig.  XTT.,  and  make  this  change  in  them  as  we  reverse  them, 
using  now  the  exact  profile  of  the  cornice  a, — the  father  of 
cornices  ;  and  we  shall  thus  have  a  and  6,  Fig.  XIX. 

Both  of  these  are  sufficiently  ugly,  the  reader  thinks  ;  so  do 
I ;  but  w«  will  mend  them  before  \ve  have  done  with  them 


THE  CAPITAL. 


113 


that  at  a  is  assuredly  the  ugliest, — like  a  tile  on  a  flower-pot 
It  is,  nevertheless,  the  father  of  capitals  ;  being  the  simplest 
condition  of  the  gathered  father  of  cornices.  But  it  is  to  be 
observed  that  the  diameter  of  the  shaft  here  is  arbitrarily  as- 
sumed to  be  small,  in  order  more  clearly  to  show  the  general 
relations  of  the  slop- 
ing stone  to  the 
shaft  and  upper 
stone ;  and  this 
smallness  of  the 
shaft  diameter  is 
inconsistent  with 
the  serviceableness 
and  beauty  of  the 
arrangement  at  a, 
if  it  were  to  be 
realised  (as  we  shall 
see  presently)  ;  but 
it  is  not  inconsistent 
with  its  central 
character,  as  the 
representative  of 
every  species  of 
possible  capital ; 
nor  is  its  tile  and 
flower-pot  look  to 
be  regretted,  as  it 
may  remind  the 
reader  of  the  re- 
ported origin  of  the 
Corinthian  capital 
The  stones  of  the 
cornice,  hitherto 
called  X  and  Y,  re- 
ceive, now  that  they 
form  the  capital, 
each  a  separate  name  ;  the  sloping  stone  is  called  the  Bell  of 
the  capital,  and  that  laid  above  it,  the  Abacus.  Abacus  mean* 
L— 8 


FIG.  XIX. 


J14  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE.  • 

fc  board  01  tile :  I  wish  there  were  an  English  word  for  it,  bu$ 
I  fear  there  is  no  substitution  possible,  the  term  having  been 
long  fixed,  and  the  reader  will  find  it  convenient  to  familiarise 
himself  with  the  Latin  one. 

§  iv.  The  form  of  base,  e  of  Fig.  XIL,  which  corresponds  to 
this  first  form  of  capital,  a,  was  said  to  be  objectionable  only 
because  it  looked  insecure  ;  and  the  spurs  were  added  as  a  kind 
of  pledge  of  stability  to  the  eye.  But  evidently  the  projecting 
corners  of  the  abacus  at  a,  Fig.  XIX.,  are  actually  insecure ; 
they  may  break  off,  if  great  weight  be  laid  upon  them.  Twin's 
is  the  chief  reason  of  the  ugliness  of  the  form  ;  and  the  spurs 
in  b  are  now  no  mere  pledges  of  apparent  stability,  but  have 
very  serious  practical  use  in  supporting  the  angle  of  the  aba- 
cus. If,  even  with  the  added  spur,  the  support  seems  insuffi- 
cient, we  may  fill  up  the  crannies  between  the  spurs  and  the 
beh1,  and  we  have  the  form  c. 

Thus  a,  though  the  germ  and  type  of  capitals,  is  itself  (ex- 
cept under  some  peculiar  conditions)  both  ugly  and  insecure  ; 
6  is  the  first  type  of  capitals  which  carry  light  weight ;  c,  of 
capitals  which  carry  excessive  weight. 

§  v.  I  fear,  however,  the  reader  may  think  he  is  going 
slightly  too  fast,  and  may  not  like  having  the  capital  forced 
upon  him  out  of  the  cornice  ;  but  would  prefer  inventing  a 
capital  for  the  shaft  itself,  without  reference  to  the  cornice  at 
all.  We  will  do  so  then  ;  though  we  shall  come  to  the  same 
result. 

The  shaft,  it  will  be  remembered,  has  to  sustain  the  same 
weight  as  the  long  piece  of  wall  which  was  concentrated  into 
the  shaft ;  it  is  enabled  to  do  this  both  by  its  better  form  and 
better  knit  materials  ;  and  it  can  carry  a  greater  weight  than 
the  space  at  the  top  of  it  is  adapted  to  receive.  The  first 
point,  therefore,  is  to  expand  this  space  as  far  as  possible,  and 
that  in  a  form  more  convenient  than  the  circle  for  the  adjust- 
ment of  the  stones  above.  In  general  the  square  is  a  more 
convenient  form  than  any  other  ;  but  the  hexagon  or  octagon 
is  sometimes  better  fitted  for  masses  of  work  which  divide  in 
six  or  eight  directions.  Then  our  first  impulse  would  be  to 
put  a  square  or  hexagonal  stone  on  the  top  of  the  shaft,  pro 


THE  CAPITAL.  115 

jeeting  as  far  beyond  it  as  might  be  safely  ventured  ;  as  at  a, 
Fig.  XX.  This  is  the  abacus.  Our  next  idea  would  be  to  put 
a  conical  shaped  stone  beneath  this  abacus,  to  support  its 
outer  edge,  as  at  6.  This  is  the  bell. 

§  VL  Now  the  entire  treatment  of  the  capital  depends  simply 
on  the  manner  in  which  this  bell-stone  is  prepared  for  fitting 
the  shaft  below  and  the  abacus  above.  Placed  as  at  a,  in  Fig. 
XIX.,  it  gives  us  the  simplest  of  possible  forms ;  with  the 
spurs  added,  as  at  6,  it  gives  the  germ  of  the  richest  and  mos* 
elaborate  forms  :  but  there  are  two  modes  of  treatment  more 
dexterous  than  the  one,  and  less  elaborate  than  the  other, 

which  are  of  the  highest  possible  im-         i -t 

portance, — modes  in   which   the  bell  is  j — ' — j j — I — , 

brought  to  its  proper  form  by  truncation. 

§  vn.  Let  d  and  /,  Fig.  XIX.,  be  two 
bell-stones  ;  d  is  part  of  a  cone  (a  sugar- 
loaf  upside  down,  with  its  point  cut  off) ; 
f  part  of  a  four-sided   pyramid.     Then, 
assuming  the  abacus  to  be  square,  d  will 
already  fit  the  shaft,  but  has  to  be  chisel- 
led to  fit  the  abacus  \f  will  already  fit  the  r 
abacus,  but  has  to  be  chiselled  to  fit  the  \      /          \      / 
shaft 

From  the  broad  end  of  d  chop  or  chisel 
off,  in  four  vertical  planes,  as  much  as  / 
will  leave  its  head  an  exact  square.  The 
vertical  cuttings  will  form  curves  on  the 
sides  of  the  cone  (curves  of  a  curious  kind,  which  the  reader 
need  not  be  troubled  to  examine),  and  we  shall  have  the  form 
at  e,  which  is  the  root  of  the  greater  number  of  Norman  capitals. 

From/"  cut  off  the  angles,  beginning  at  the  corners  of  the 
square  and  widening  the  truncation  downwards,  so  as  to  giva 
the  form  at  g,  where  the  base  of  the  bell  is  an  octagon,  and  its 
top  remains  a  square.  A  very  slight  rounding  away  of  the 
angles  of  the  octagon  at  the  base  of  g  will  enable  it  to  fit  the 
circular  shaft  closely  enough  for  all  practical  purposes,  and 
this  form,  at  g,  is  the  root  of  nearly  all  Lombardic  capitals. 

If.  instead  of  a  square,  the  head  of  the  bell  were  hexagonaj 


PlQ.  XX 


116  THE  STONE'S  OF   VENICE. 

or  octagonal,  the  operation  of  cutting  would  be  the  same  oa 
each  angle ;  but  there  would  be  produced,  of  course,  six  oz 
eight  curves  on  the  sides  of  et  and  twelve  or  sixteen  sides  to 
the  base  of  g. 

§  vm.  The  truncations  in  e  and  g  may  of  course  be  executed 
on  concave  or  convex  forms  of  d  and  f ;  but  e  is  usually 
worked  on  a  straight-sided  bell,  and  the  truncation  of  g  often 
becomes  concave  while  the  bell  remains  straight ;  for  this 
simple  reason, — that  the  sharp  points  at  the  angles  of  g,  being 
somewhat  difficult  to  cut,  and  easily  broken  off,  are  usually 
avoided  by  beginning  the  truncation  a  little  way  down  the 
side  of  the  bell,  and  then  recovering  the 
lost  ground  by  a  deeper  cut  inwards,  aa 
here,  Fig.  XXT.  This  is  the  actual  fora 
of  the  capitals  of  the  balustrades  of  St 
Mark's  :  it  is  the  root  of  all  the  Byzantine 
Arab  capitals,  and  of  all  the  most  beauti- 
ful capitals  in  the  world,  whose  function 

Fio.  XXI.  ..    ,, 

is  to  express  lightness. 

§  ix.  We  have  hitherto  proceeded  entirely  on  the  assump- 
tion that  the  form  of  cornice  which  was  gathered  together  tc/ 
produce  the  capital  was  the  root  of  cornices,  a  of  Fig.  V- 
But  this,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  said  in  §  VL  of  Chap.  "VT 
u)  be  especially  characteristic  of  southern  work,  and  that  ir 
northern  and  wet  climates  it  took  the  form  of  a  dripstone. 

Accordingly,  in  the  northern  climates,  the  dripstone 
gathered  together  forms  a  peculiar  northern  capital,  com- 
monly called  the  Early  English,*  owing  to  its  especial  use  it 
that  style. 

There  would  have  been  no  absurdity  in  this  if  shafts  wer* 
always  to  be  exposed  to  the  weather ;  but  in  Gothic  con- 
structions the  most  important  shafts  are  in  the  inside  of  thfl 
building.  The  dripstone  sections  of  their  capitals  are  there- 
fore unnecessary  and  ridiculous. 

§  x.  They  are,  however,  much  worse  than  unnecessary. 

The  edge  of  the  dripstone,  being  undercut,  has  no  bearing 
yower,  and  the  capital  fails,  therefore,  in  its  own  princip* 
*  Appendix  19,  "  Early  English  Capital*." 


THE  CAPITAL. 


117 


function  ;  and  besides  this,  the  undercut  contour  admits  of 
no  distinctly  visible  decoration  ;  it  is.  therefore,  left  utterly 
barren,  and  the  capital  looks  as  if  it  had  been  turned  in  * 
lathe.  The  Early  English  capital  has,  there- 
fore, the  three  greatest  faults  that  any  design 
can  have  :  (1)  it  fails  in  its  own  proper  pur- 
pose, that  of  support ;  (2)  it  is  adapted  to  a 
purpose  to  which  it  can  never  be  put,  that 
of  keeping  off  rain  ;  (3)  it  cannot  be  de- 
corated. 

The  Early  English  capital  is,  therefore,  a 
barbarism  of  triple  grossness,  and  degrades 
the  style  in  which  it  is  found,  otherwise  very 
noble,  to  one  of  second-rate  order. 

§  xi.  Dismissing,  therefore,  the  Early 
English  capital,  as  deserving  no  place  in 
our  system,  let  us  reassemble  in  one  view 
the  forms  which  have  been  legitimately  de- 
veloped, and  which  are  to  become  hereafter 
subjects  of  decoration.  To  the  forms  a,  b, 
and  c,  Fig.  XIX.,  we  must  add  the  two 
simplest  truncated  forms  e  and  g,  Fig.  XIX., 
putting  their  abaci  on  them  (as  we  con- 
sidered their  contours  in  the  bells  only),  and 
we  shall  have  the  five  forms  now  given  in 
parallel  perspective  in  Fig.  XXTT.,  which  are 
the  roots  of  all  good  capitals  existing,  or 
capable  of  existence,  and  whose  variations, 
infinite  and  a  thousand  times  infinite,  are  all 
produced  by  introduction  of  various  curva- 
tures into  their  contours,  and  the  endless 
methods  of  decoration  superinduced  on  such 
curvatures. 

§  xn.  There  is,  however,  a  kind  of  varia- 
tion, also  infinite,  which  takes  place  in  these 
radical  forms,  before  they  receive  either  curvature  or  decora- 
tioa  This  is  the  variety  of  proportion  borne  by  the  different 
lines  of  the  capital  to  each  other,  and  to  the  shaft*  This  i* 


FIG.  XXII. 


ild 


THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 


a  structural  question,  at  present  to  be  considered  as  far  as  it 
possible. 

§  xm.  All  the  five  capitals  (which  are  indeed  five  orders 
•with  legitimate  distinction  ;  very  different,  however,  from  the 
five  orders  as  commonly  understood)  may  be  represented  by 
the  same  profile,  a  section  through  the  sides  of  a,  6,  d,  and  et 
or  through  the  angles  of  c,  Fig.  XXTT.  This  profile  we  will 
put  on  the  top  of  a  shaft,  as  at  A,  Fig.  XXTTT.,  which  shaft 
we  will  suppose  of  equal  diameter  above  and  below  for  the 
sake  of  greater  simplicity  :  in  this  simplest  condition,  how 


*      r 


B 


PIG.  XXIII. 

ever,  relations  of  proportion  exist  between  five  quantities,  any 
one,  or  any  two,  or  any  three,  or  any  four  of  which  may  change, 
irrespective  of  the  others.  These  five  quantities  are  : 

1.  The  height  of  the  shaft,  ab  ; 

2.  Its  diameter,  be; 

3.  The  length  of  slope  of  bell,  b  d: 

4.  The  inclination  of  this  slope,  or  angle  c  b  d : 

5.  The  depth  of  abacus,  d  e. 

For  every  change  in  any  one  of  these  quantities  we  havft 
a  new  proportion  of  capital :  five  infinities,  supposing  change 
only  in  one  quantity  at  a  time  :  infinity  of  infinities  in  the  sum 
of  powible  changes. 


THE  CAPITAL.  11* 

It  is,  therefore,  only  possible  to  note  the  general  laws  of 
change  ;  every  scale  of  pillar,  and  every  weight  laid  upon  it 
admitting,  within  certain  limits,  a  variety  out  of  which  the 
architect  has  his  choice  ;  but  yet  fixing  limits  which  the  pro- 
portion becomes  ugly  when  it  approaches,  and  dangerous 
when  it  exceeds.  But  the  inquiry  into  this  subject  is  too 
difficult  for  the  general  reader,  and  I  shall  content  myself  with 
proving  four  laws,  easily  understood  and  generally  applicable ; 
for  proof  of  which  if  the  said  reader  care  not,  he  may  miss  the 
next  four  paragraphs  without  harm. 

§  xrv.  1.  The  more  slender  the  shaft,  the  greater,  propor- 
tionally, may  be  the  projection  of  the  abacus.  For,  looking 
back  to  Fig.  TnCTTT.,  let  the  height  a  b  be  fixed,  the  length 
d  b,  the  angle  d  b  c,  and  the  depth  d  e.  Let  the  single  quantity 
b  c  be  variable,  let  B  be  a  capital  and  shaft  which  are  found  to 
be  perfectly  safe  in  proportion  to  the  weight  they  bear,  and 
let  the  weight  be  equally  distributed  over  the  whole  of  the 
abacus.  Then  this  weight  may  be  represented  by  any  number 
of  equal  divisions,  suppose  four,  as  I,  m,  n,  r,  of  brickwork 
above,  of  which  each  division  is  one  fourth  of  the  whole 
weight ;  and  let  this  weight  be  placed  in  the  most  trying  way 
on  the  abacus,  that  is  to  say,  let  the  masses  I  and  r  be  detached 
from  m  and  n,  and  bear  with  their  full  weight  on  the  outside 
of  the  capital  We  assume,  in  B,  that  the  width  of  abacus  ef 
is  twice  as  great  as  that  of  the  shaft,  b  c,  and  on  these  condi- 
tions we  assume  the  capital  to  be  safe. 

But  6  c  is  allowed  to  be  variable.  Let  it  become  6,  c,  at  C, 
which  is  a  length  representing  about  the  diameter  of  a  shaft 
containing  half  the  substance  of  the  shaft  B,  and,  therefore, 
able  to  sustain  not  more  than  half  the  weight  sustained  by  B. 
But  the  slope  6  d  and  depth  d  e  remaining  unchanged,  we 
have  the  capital  of  C,  which  we  are  to  load  with  only  half  the 
weight  of  I,  m,  n,  r,  i.  e.,  with  I  and  r  alone.  Therefore  the 
weight  of  I  and  r,  now  represented  by  the  masses  ly  ra,  is  dis- 
tributed over  the  whole  of  the  capital.  But  the  weight  r  was 
adequately  supported  by  the  projecting  piece  of  the  first  capi- 
tal hfc :  much  more  is  it  now  adequately  supported  by  i  h> 
f.  c.s  Therefore,  if  the  capital  of  B  was  safe,  that  of  C  iff 

Stones  of  Venice — Vol.  Lrs  :  * 


120 


THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 


more  than  safe.     Now  in  B  the  length  ef  was  only  twice  b  c 
but  in  C,  e^f^  will  be  found  more  than  twice  that  of  6a  c,. 
Therefore,  the  more  slender  the  shaft,  the  greater  may  be  the 
proportional  excess  of  the  abacus  over  its  diameter. 

§  xv.  2.  The  smaller  the  scale  of  the  building,  the  greater  may 
be  the  excess  of  the  abacus  over  the  diameter  of  the  shaft.  This 
principle  requires,  I  think,  no  very  lengthy  proof  :  the  reader 
«5an  understand  at  once  that  the  cohesion  and  strength  of  stone 
which  can  sustain  a  small  projecting  mass,  will  not  sustain  a 
vast  one  overhanging  in  the  same  proportion.  A  bank  even 
of  loose  earth,  six  feet  high,  will  sometimes  overhang  its  base 
a  foot  or  two,  as  you  may  see  any  day  in  the  gravelly  banks  of 
the  lanes  of  Hampstead :  but  make  the  bank  of  gravel,  equally 
loose,  six  hundred  feet  high,  and  see  if  you  can  get  it  to  over- 
hang a  hundred  or  two  !  much  more  if  there  be  weight  above 
it  increased  in  the  same  proportion.  Hence,  let  any  capital 
be  given,  whose  projection  is  just  safe,  and  no  more,  on  its 
existing  scale  ;  increase  its  proportions  every  way  equally, 
though  ever  so  little,  and  it  is  unsafe  ;  diminish  them  equally, 
and  it  becomes  safe  in  the  exact  degree  of  the  diminution. 


PlQ.  XXIV. 

Let,  then,  the  quantity  e  d,  and  angta  a  b  c,  at  A  of  Fig 
XXHL,  be  invariable,  and  let  the  length  d  b  vary :  then  we 
shall  have  such  a  series  of  forms  as  may  be  represented  by  a, 
6,  c,  Fig.  XXIV.,  of  which  a  is  a  proportion  for  a  colossal 
building,  b  for  a  moderately  sized  building,  while  c  could  only 
be  admitted  on  a  very  small  scale  indeed. 

§  xvi.  3.  The  greater  the  excess  of  abacus,  the  steeper  must  hi 
the  slope  of  the  bell,  the  shaft  diameter  being  constant. 

This  will  evidently  follow  from  the  considerations  in  the 
last  paragraph  ;  supposing  only  thai,  instead  of  the  scale  oi 


THE  CAPITAL. 


121 


shaft  and  capital  varying  together,  the  scale  of  the  capita] 
varies  alone.     For  it  will  then  still  be  true,  that,  if  the  projec- 
tion of  the  capital  be  just  safe  on  a  given  scale,  as  its  excess 
over  the  shaft  diameter  increases,  the  pro- 
jection will  be  unsafe,  if  the  slope  of  the 
bell  remain   constant     But  it  may  be 
rendered    safe    by    making    this    slope 
steeper,  and  so  increasing  its  supporting 
power. 

Thus  let  the  capital  a,  Fig.  XXV.,  be 
just  safe.  Then  the  capital  6,  in  which 
the  slope  is  the  same  but  the  excess 
greater,  is  unsafe.  But  the  capital  c,  in 
which,  though  the  excess  equals  that  of 
b,  the  steepness  of  the  supporting  slope  is 
increased,  will  be  as  safe  as  b,  and  prob- 
ably as  strong  as  a.* 

§  xvn.  4.  The  steeper  the  slope  of  the 
bell,  the  thinner  may  be  the  abacus. 

The  use  of  the  abacus  is  eminently  to  PI&  XXT. 

equalise  the  pressure  over  the  surface  of 
the  bell,  so  that  the  weight  may  not  by  any  accident  be  directed 
exclusively  upon  its  edges.     In  proportion  to  the  strength  of 
these  edges,  this  function  of  the  abacus 
is    superseded,   and    these    edges  are 
strong  in  proportion  to  the  steepness  of 
the   slope.     Thus  in  Fig.  XXVL,   the 
bell  at  a  would    carry   weight    safely 
enough  without  any  abacus,  but  that  at 
c  would  not :  it  would  probably  have  its 
edges  broken  off.      The  abacus  super- 
imposed might  be  on  a  very  thin,  lit- 
tle more  than  formal,  as  at  6 ;  but  on  c 
must  be  thick,  as  at  <L 
§  xvm.  These  four  rules  are  all  that  are  necessary  for  general 

*  In  this  case  the  weight  borne  is  supposed  to  increase  as  the  abaca? 
widens  ;  the  illustration  would  have  been  clearer  if  I  had  assumed  tk> 
breadth  oi  abacus  to  be  constant,  and  that  >..,  the  shaft  to  varjr. 


Pro.  XXVL 


THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

criticism  ;  and  observe  that  these  are  only  senri-imperatiTe,-~ 
rules  of  permission,  not  of  compulsion.  Thus  Law  1  assert* 
that  the  slender  shaft  may  have  greater  excess  of  capital  than 
the  thick  shaft ;  but  it  need  not,  unless  the  architect  chooses ; 
his  thick  shafts  must  have  small  excess,  but  his  slender  ones 
need  not  have  large.  So  Law  2  says,  that  as  the  building  is 
smaller,  the  excess  may  be  greater ;  but  it  need  not,  for  the 
excess  which  is  safe  in  the  large  is  still  safer  in  the  small.  Sc 
Law  3  says  that  capitals  of  great  excess  must  have  steep  slopes  r 
but  in  does  not  say  that  capitals  of  small  excess  may  not  have 
steep  slopes  also,  if  we  choose.  And  lastly,  Law  4  asserts  the 
necessity  of  the  thick  abacus  for  the  shallow  bell ;  but  the 
steep  bell  may  have  a  thick  abacus  also. 

§  xix.  It  will  be  found,  however,  that  in  practice  some  con- 
fession of  these  laws  will  always  be  useful,  and  especially  of 
the  two  first.  The  eye  always  requires,  on  a  slender  shaft,  a 
more  spreading  capital  than  it  does  on  a  massy  one,  and  a 
bolder  mass  of  capital  on  a  small  scale  than  on  a  large.  And, 
in  the  application  of  the  first  rule,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  a  shaft 
becomes  slender  either  by  diminution  of  diameter  or  increase 
of  height ;  that  either  mode  of  change  presupposes  the  weight 
above  it  diminished,  and  requires  an  expansion  of  abacus.  1 
know  no  mode  of  spoiling  a  noble  building  more  frequent  in 
actual  practice  than  the  imposition  of  flat  and  slightly  ex- 
panded capitals  on  tall  shafts. 

§  xx.  The  reader  must  observe,  also,  that,  in  the  demonstra- 
tion of  the  four  laws,  I  always  assumed  the  weight  above  to 
be  given.  By  the  alteration  of  this  weight,  therefore,  the  archi- 
tect has  it  in  his  power  to  relieve,  and  therefore  alter,  the 
forms  of  his  capitals.  By  its  various  distribution  on  their 
centres  or  edges,  the  slope  of  their  bells  and  thickness  of  abaci 
will  be  affected  also  ;  so  that  he  has  countless  expedients  at  his 
command  for  the  various  treatment  of  his  design.  He  can  di- 
vide his  weights  among  more  shafts  ;  he  can  throw  them  in 
different  places  and  ditferent  directions  on  the  abaci ;  he  can 
alter  slope  of  bells  or  diameter  of  shafts ;  he  can  use  spurred 
or  plain  bells,  thin  or  thick  abaci  and  all  these  changes  ad- 
mitting of  infinity  in  their  degrti ->:.  and  infinity  a  thousand 


THE  CAPITAL.  123 

rimes  told  in  their  relations  :  and  all  this  without  reference  to 
decoration,  merely  with  the  five  forms  of  block  capital ! 

§  xxi.  In  the  harmony  of  these  arrangements,  in  their  fife- 
ness.,  unity,  and  accuracy,  lies  the  true  proportion  of  every 
building, — proportion  utterly  endless  in  its  infinities  of  change, 
with  unchanged  beauty.  And  yet  this  connection  of  the  frame 
of  their  building  into  one  harmony  has,  I  believe,  never  been 
so  much  as  dreamed  of  by  architects.  It  has  been  instinc- 
tively done  in  some  degree  by  many,  empirically  in  some  de- 
gree by  many  more  ;  thoughtfully  and  thoroughly,  I  believe, 
by  none. 

§  xxii.  We  have  hitherto  considered  the  abacus  as  necessa- 
rily a  separate  stone  from  the  bell :  evidently,  however,  the 
strength  of  the  capital  will  be  undiminished  if  both  are  cut  out 
of  one  block.  This  is  actually  the  case  in  many  capitals,  es- 
pecially those  on  a  small  scale  ;  and  in  others  the  detached 
upper  stone  is  a  mere  representative  of  the  abacus,  and  is 
much  thinner  than  the  form  of  the  capital  requires,  while  the 
true  abacus  is  united  with  the  bell,  and  concealed  by  its  dec- 
oration, or  made  part  of  it 

§  xxm.  Farther.  We  have  hitherto  considered  bell  and 
abacus  as  both  derived  from  the  concentration  of  the  cornice. 
But  it  must  at  ance  occur  to  the  reader,  that  the  projection  of 
the  under  stone  and  the  thickness  of  the  upper,  which  are 
quite  enough  for  the  work  of  the  continuous  cornice,  may  not 
be  enough  always,  or  rather  are  seldom  likely  to  be  so,  for  the 
harder  work  of  the  capital.  Both  may  have  to  be  deepened 
and  expanded  :  but  as  this  would  cause  a  want  of  harmony  in 
the  parts,  when  they  occur  on  the  same  level,  it  is  better  in 
such  case  to  let  the  entire  cornice  form  the  abacus  of  the 
capital,  and  put  a  deep  capital  bell  beneath  it. 

§  xxiv.  The  reader  will  understand  both  arrangements  in- 
stantly by  two  examples.  Fig.  XXVTL  represents  two  win- 
dows, more  than  usually  beautiful  examples  of  a  very  frequent 
Venetian  form.  Here  the  deep  cornice  or  string  course  which 
runs  along  the  wall  of  the  house  is  quite  strong  enough  for 
khe  work  of  the  capitals  of  the  slender  shafts  :  its  own  upper 
stone  is  therefore  also  theirs;  its  own  lower  stone,  by  it* 


i24 


STONES  OF  VENICE. 


revolution  <  -  oncentration,  forms  their  bells  :  but  to  mark 
the  increase  J.  tnportance  of  its  function  in  so  doing,  it  re- 
ceives decoration,  as  the  bell 
of  the  capital,  which  it  did 
not  receive  as  the  under 
stone  of  the  cornice. 

In  Fig.  XXVIH,  a  little 
bit  of  the  church  of  Santa 
Fosca  at  Torcello,  the  cor- 
nice or  string  course,  which 
goes  round  every  part  oi 
the  church,  is  not  strong 
enough  to  form  the  capitals 
of  the  shafts.  It  therefore 
forms  their  abaci  only  ;  and 
in  order  to  mark  the  di- 
minished importance  of  its 
function,  it  ceases  to  re- 
ceive, as  the  abacus  of  the 
capital,  the  decoration  which 
it  received  as  the  string 
course  of  the  wall. 
This  last  arrangement  is  of  great  frequency  in  Venice, 
occurring  most  characteristically  in  St.  Mark's :  and  in  the 
Gothic  of  St.  John  and  Paul  we  find  the  two  arrangements 
beautifully  united,  though  in  great  simplicity ;  the  string^ 
courses  of  the  walls  form  the  capitals  of  the  shafts  of  the 
traceries,  and  the  abaci  of  the  vaulting  shafts  of  the  apse. 

§  xxv.  We  have  hitherto  spoken  of  capitals  of  circular 
shafts  only  :  those  of  square  piers  are  more  frequently  formed 
by  the  cornice  only  ;  otherwise  they  are  like  those  of  circular 
piers,  without  the  difficulty  of  reconciling  the  base  of  the 
bell  with  its  head. 

§  xxn.  When  two  or  more  shafts  are  grouped  together, 
their  capitals  are  usiv  ly  treated  as  separate,  until  they  come 
into  actual  contact,  -f  there  be  any  awkwardness  in  the 
junction,  it  is  concea.  .d  by  the  decoration,  and  one  abacus 
gerves,  in  most  cases,  for  all  The  double  group,  Fig.  XXVIL 


Pio.  XXVII. 


'1    B  CAPITAL. 


126 


is  the  simplest  possibl  type  of  the  arrangement  In  th« 
richer  Northern  Gothic  groups  of  eighteen  or  twenty  shafts 
cluster  together,  and  sometimes  the  smaller  shafts  crouch 
under  the  capitals  of  the  larger,  and  hide  their  heads  in  the 
crannies,  with  small  nominal  abaci  of  their  own,  while  the 
larger  shafts  carry  the  serviceable  abacus  of  the  whole  pier, 
as  in  the  nave  of  Rouen.  There  is,  however,  evident  sacrifice 
of  sound  principle  in  this  system,  the  smaller  abaci  being  of 
no  use.  They  are  the  exact  contrary  of  the  rude  early  abacus 
at  Milan,  given  in  Plate  XVH  There  one  poor  abacus 


FlO.  XXVIII. 


stretched  itself  out  to  do  all  the  work :  here  there  are  idle 
abaci  getting  up  into  corners  and  doing  none. 

§  xxvir.  Finally,  we  have  considered  the  capital  hitherto 
entirely  as  an  expansion  of  the  bearing  power  of  the  shaft, 
supposing  the  shaft  composed  of  a  single  stone.  But,  evidently, 
the  capital  has  a  function,  if  possible,  yet  more  important, 
when  the  shaft  is  composed  of  small  masonry.  It  enables  all 
that  masonry  to  act  together,  and  to  receive  the  pressure  from 
above  collectively  and  with  a  single  strength.  And  thus,  con- 
sidered merely  as  a  large  stone  set  on  the  top  of  the  shaft,  it 
la  a  feature  of  tlie  highest  architectural  importance,  irrespee« 


126  -THE     TONES  OF  VENICE. 

tive  of  its  expansion,  v/hich  indeed  is,  in  some  very  noble  cap« 
itals,  exceedingly  small.  And  thus  every  large  stone  set  at  any 
important  point  to  reassemble  the  force  of  smaller  masonry 
and  prepare  it  for  the  sustaining  of  weight,  is  a  capital  or 
"  head  "  stone  (the  true  meaning  of  the  word)  whether  it  pro- 
ject or  not  Thus  at  6,  in  Plate  IV.,  the  stones  which  support 
the  thrust  of  the  brickwork  are  capitals,  which  have  no  pro- 
jection at  all ;  and  the  large  stones  in  the  window  above  are 
capitals  projecting  in  one  direction  only. 

§  xxvm.  The  reader  is  now  master  of  all  he  need  know 
respecting  construction  of  capitals  ;  and  from  what  has  been 
laid  before  him,  must  assuredly  feel  that  there  can  never  be 
any  new  system  of  architectural  forms  invented  ;  but  that  all 
vertical  support  must  be,  to  the  end  of  time,  best  obtained  by 
shafts  and  capitals.  It  has  been  so  obtained  by  nearly  every 
nation  of  builders,  with  more  or  less  refinement  in  the  man- 
agement of  the  details ;  and  the  later  Gothic  builders  of  the 
North  stand  almost  alone  in  their  effort  to  dispense  with  the 
natural  development  of  the  shaft,  and  banish  the  capital  from 
their  compositions. 

They  were  gradually  led  into  this  error  through  a  series  of 
steps  which  it  is  not  here  our  business  to  trace.  But  they 
may  be  generalised  in  a  few  words. 

§  xxix.  All  classical  architecture,  and  the  Romanesque 
which  is  legitimately  descended  from  it,  is  composed  of  bold 
independent  shafts,  plain  or  fluted,  with  bold  detached  capi- 
tals, forming  arcades  or  colonnades  where  they  are  needed ; 
and  of  walls  whose  apertures  are  surrounded  by  courses  of 
parallel  lines  called  mouldings,  which  are  continuous  round 
the  apertures,  and  have  neither  shafts  nor  capitals.  The  shaft 
system  and  moulding  system  are  entirely  separate. 

The  Gothic  architects  confounded  the  two.  They  clustered 
the  shafts  till  they  looked  like  a  group  of  mouldings.  They 
shod  and  capitaled  the  mouldings  till  they  looked  like  a  group 
of  shafts.  So  that  a  pier  became  merely  the  side  of  a  door  or 
window  rolled  up,  and  the  side  of  the  window  a  pier  unrolled 
(vide  last  Chapter,  §  xsx.),  both  being  composed  of  a  series  of 
imall  shafts,  each  with  base  and  capital.  The  architect  seemed 


THE  CAPITAL.  127 

to  have  whole  mats  of  shafts  at  his  disposal,  like  the  rush 
mats  which  one  puts  under  cream  cheese.  If  lie  wanted  a 
great  pier  he  rolled  up  the  mat ;  if  he  wanted  the  side  of  a 
door  he  spread  out  the  mat ;  and  nC  w  the  reader  has  to  add 
to  the  other  distinctions  between  the  Egyptian  and  the  Gothic 
shaft,  already  noted  in  §  XXVL  of  Chap.  VUL,  this  one  more — 
the  most  important  of  all — that  while  the  Egyptian  rush  clus- 
ter has  only  one  massive  capital  altogether,  the  Gothic  rush 
mat  has  a  separate  tiny  capital  to  every  several  rush. 

§  xxx.  The  mats  were  gradually  mad*  of  finer  rushes,  until 
it  became  troublesome  to  give  each  rush  its  capital.  In  fact, 
when  the  groups  of  shafts  became  excessively  complicated,  the 
expansion  of  their  small  abaci  was  of  no  use  :  it  was  dispensed 
with  altogether,  and  the  mouldings  of  pier  and  jamb  ran  up 
continuously  into  the  arches. 

This  condition,  though  in  many  respects  faulty  and  false,  is 
yet  the  eminently  characteristic  state  of  Gothic  :  it  is  the  defi- 
nite formation  of  it  as  a  distinct  style,  owing  no  farther  aid  to 
classical  models  ;  and  its  lightness  and  complexity  render  it, 
when  well  treated,  and  enriched  with  Flamboyant  decoration, 
a  very  glorious  means  of  picturesque  effect.  It  is,  in  fact,  this 
form  of  Gothic  which  commends  itself  most  easily  to  the  gen- 
eral mind,  and  which  has  suggested  the  innumerable  foolish 
theories  about  the  derivation  of  Gothic  from  tree  trunks  and 
avenues,  which  have  from  time  to  time  been  brought  forward 
by  persons  ignorant  of  the  history  of  architecture. 

§  xxxi.  When  the  sense  of  picturesqueness,  as  well  as  thai 
of  justness  and  dignity,  had  been  lost,  the  spring  of  the  con- 
tinuous mouldings  was  replaced  by  what  Professor  Willis  calls 
the  Discontinuous  impost ;  which,  being  a  barbarism  of  the 
basest  and  most  painful  kind,  and  being  to  architecture  what 
the  setting  of  a  saw  is  to  music,  I  shall  not  trouble  the  reader 
to  examine.  For  it  is  not  in  my  plan  to  note  for  him  all  the 
various  conditions  of  error,  but  only  to  guide  him  to  the  ap- 
preciation of  the  right ;  and  I  only  note  even  the  true  Contin' 
uous  or  Flamboyant  Gothic  because  this  is  redeemed  by  its 
beautiful  decoration,  afterwards  to  be  considered.  For,  as  far 
RS  structure  is  concerned,  the  moment  the  capital  vanishes 


128  THE  STONES  OF  VENICtt. 

from  the  shaft,  that  moment  we  are  in  error  :  all  good  Gothia 
has  true  capitals  to  the  shafts  of  its  jambs  and  traceries,  and 
all  Gothic  is  debased  the  instant  the  shaft  vanishes.  It  matters 
not  how  slender,  or  how  small,  or  how  low,  the  shaft  may  be  : 
wherever  there  is  indication  of  concentrated  vertical  support, 
then  the  capital  is  a  necessary  termination.  I  know  how 
much  Gothic,  otherwise  beautiful,  this  sweeping  principle  con- 
demns ;  but  it  condemns  not  altogether.  We  may  still  take 
delight  in  its  lovely  proportions,  its  rich  decoration,  or  ita 
elastic  and  reedy  moulding  ;  but  be  assured,  wherever  shafts, 
or  any  approximations  to  the  forms  of  shafts,  are  employed,  for 
whatever  office,  or  on  whatever  scale,  be  it  in  jambs  or  piers, 
or  balustrades,  or  traceries,  without  capitals,  there  is  a  defiance 
of  the  natural  laws  of  construction  ;  and  that,  wherever  such 
examples  are  found  in  ancient  buildings,  they  are  either  the  ex* 
periments  of  barbarism,  or  the  commencements  of  decline. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   ARCH    LINE. 

§  L  WE  have  seen  in  the  last  section  how  our  means  of  ver- 
tical support  may,  for  the  sake  of  economy  both  of  space  and 
material,  be  gathered  into  piers  or  shafts,  and  directed  to  the 
sustaining  of  particular  points.  The  next  question  is  how  to 
connect  these  points  or  tops  of  shafts  with  each  other,  so  as  to 
be  able  to  lay  on  them  a  continuous  roof.  This  the  reader,  as 
before,  is  to  favor  me  by  finding  out  for  himself,  under  these 
following  conditions. 

Let  s,  s,  Fig.  XXIX.,  opposite,  be  two  shafts,  with  their 
capitals  ready  prepared  for  their  work  ;  and  a,  b,  b,  and  c,  c,  c, 
be  six  stones  of  different  sizes,  one  very  long  and  large,  and 
two  smaller,  and  4hree  smaller  still,  of  which  the  reader  is  to 
choose  which  he  likes  best,  in  order  to  connect  the  tops  of  the 
shafts. 

I  suppose  he  will  first  try  if  he  can  lift  the  great  stone  a, 
and  if  he  can,  he  will  put  it  very  simply  on  the  tops  of  the  two 
pillars,  as  at  A. 


THE  ARCH  LiNS. 


129 


Very  well  indeed  :  he  has  done  already  what  a  number  of 
Greek  architects  have  been  thought  very  clever  for  having 
done.  But  suppose  he  cannot  lift  the  great  stone  a,  or  sup- 


FIG. 


pose  I  will  not  give  it  to  him,  but  only  the  two  smaller  stones 
at  6,  6 ;  he  will  doubtless  try  to  put  them  up,  tilted  against 
each  other,  as  at  d.  Very  awkward  this  ;  worse  than  card- 
house  building.  But  if  he  cuts  off  the  corners  of  the  stones, 
VOL.  I.— 9 


180  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

m 

BO  as  to  make  «?ach  of  them  of  the  form  e,  they  will  sfcau^  tj 
very  securely,  as  \i  R 

But  suppose  he  Cannot  lift  even  these  less  stones,  but  cat 
raise  those  at  c,  c,  c.  •flien,  cutting  each  of  them  into  th& 
form  at  e,  he  will  doubtlesc  set  them  up  as  aif. 

§  n.  This  last  arrangement  looks  a  little  dangerous,  k 
there  not  a  chance  of  the  sieve  ia  the  middle  pushing  the 
others  out,  or  tilting  them  up  aui  suads,  «md  slipping  dowr 
itself  between  them?  There  is  each  a  cfcance :  and  if  bj 
somewhat  altering  the  form  of  the  stones,  w^  can  diminish 
this  chance,  all  the  better.  I  must  say  "  we "  now,  for  per- 
haps I  may  have  to  help  the  reader  a  little. 

The  danger  is,  observe,  that  the  midmost  stone  at/"  pushes, 
out  the  side  ones :  then  if  we  can  give  the  side  ones^uch  t. 
shape  as  that,  left  to  themselves,  they  would  fall  heavily  for- 
ward, they  will  resist  this  push  out  ^_tljfiir.^eighjt^g^cfljJ2^ 
proportion  to  their  own  particular  inelmation  or  desire_tr. 
tumble  in.  Take  one  of  them  separately,  standing  up  as  at  g  , 
it  is  just  possible  it  may  stand  up  as  it  is,  like  the  Tower  ol 
Pisa  :  but  we  want  it  to  fall  forward.  Suppose  we  cut  away 
the  parts  that  are  shaded  at  h  and  leave  it  as  at  i,  it  is  very 
certain  it  cannot  stand  alone  now,  but  will  fall  forward  to  our 
entire  satisfaction. 

Farther:  the  midmost  stone  at /is  likely  to  be  trouble- 
some  chiefly  by  its  weight,  pushing  down  between  the  others ; 
the  more  we  lighten  it  the  better :  so  we  will  cut  it  into  ex- 
actly the  same  shape  as  the  side  ones,  chiseUing_away  Jhe 
shaded  parts,  as  at  h.  We  shall  then  have  all  the  three  stones 
k.  I,  m,  of  the  same  shape ;  and  now  putting  them  together, 
we  have,  at  C,  what  the  reader,  I  doubt  not,  will  perceive  at 
once  to  be  a  much  more  satisfactory  arrangement  than  thai ' 
at/. 

§  m.  We  have  now  got  three  arrangements  ;  in  one  using 
only  one  piece  of  stone,  in  the  second  two,  and  in  the  third 
three.  The  first  arrangement  has  no  particular  -nam*Vjexcej£ 
the  "  horizontal : "  but  the  single  stone  (or  beam,  it  may  be,) 
is  called  a  lintel ;  the  second  arrangement  is  called  a  "  Gable ; 
the  third  an  "  Arch." 


THE  ARCH  LINK.  181 

«  We  might  have  used  pieces  of  wogd-inatead  of  stone  in  aD 
these  arrangements,  with  no  difference  in  plan,  so  long  as  the 
beams  were  kept  loose,  like  the  stones  ;  but  as  beams  can  be 
securely  nailed  together  at  the  ends,  we  need  not  trouble  our- 
selves so  much  about  their  shape  or  balance,  and  therefore  the 
plan  at  f  is  a  peculiarly  wooden  construction  (the  reader  will 
doubtless  recognise  in  it  the  profile  of  many  a  farm-house 
roof) :  and  again,  because  beams  are  tough,  and  light,  and 
long,  as  compared  with  stones,  they  are  admirably  adapted 
for  the  constructions  at  A  and  B,  the  plain  lintel  and  gable, 
while  that  at  0  is,  for  the  most  part,  left  to  brick  and  stone. 

§  iv.  But  farther.  The  constructions,  A,  B,  and  C,  though 
very  conveniently  to  be  first  considered  as  composed  of  one, 
two,  and  three  pieces,  are  by  no  means  necessarily  so.  When 
we  have  once  cut  the  stones  of  the  arch  into  a  shape  like  that 
of  k,  I,  and  TO,  they  will  hold  together,  whatever  then*  number, 
place,  or  size,  as  at  n  ;  and  the  great  value  of  the  arch  is,  that 
it  permits  small  stones  to  be  used  with  safety  instead  of  large 
ones,  which  are  not  always  to  be  had.  Stones  cut  into  the 
shape  of  k,  I,  and  m,  whether  they  be  short  or  long  (I  have 
drawn  them  all  sizes  at  n  on  purpose),  are  called  Voussoirs  ; 
this  is  a  hard,  ugly  French  name  ;  but  the  reader  will  per- 
haps  be  kind  enough  to  recollect  it ;  it  will  save  us  both  some 
trouble  :  and  to  make  amends  for  this  infliction,  I  will  relieve 
him  of  the  term  keystone.  One  voussoir  is  as  much  a  keystone 
as  another ;  only  people  usually  call  the  stone  which  is  last 
put  in  the  keystone  ;  and  that  one  happens  generally  to  be  at 
the  top  or  middle  of  the  arch. 

§  v.  Not  only  the  arch,  but  even  the  lintel,  may  be  built  of 
many  stones  or  hrieka    The  reader  may  see  Jinteto  built  4a- 
thijt  way  Qvflrjnagst  of  ijig_wigdow8  of  our_brick  London , 
houses,  and  so  also  the  gable :  there  are,  therefore,  two  dis- 
tinct questions  respecting  each  arrangement : — First,  what  ia 
the  line  or  direction  of  it,  which  gives  it  its  strength  ?  and, 
secondly,  jwhat  ia  tbft  Banner  of  masonry  of  it.  whi^1  ffiyftP  ** 
its  consistence-?    The  first  of  these  I  shall  consider  in  this 
Chapter  under  the  head  of  the  Arch  Line,  using  the  term  arcb 
a*  including  aii  manner  cf  construction  (though  we 


132  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

have  no  trouble  except  about  curves) ;  and  in  the  next  Chap 
ter  I  shall  consider  the  second,  under  the  head,  Arch  Masonry. 
§  VL  Now  the  arch  line  is  the  ghost  or  skeleton  of  the  arch ; 
or  rather  it  is  the  _  spinal  marrow  of  the  arch,  and  the  vousj- 
Boirs_ar£  the  ^ertebrasf'  which  keep  it  safe  and  sound,  and  clothe 
it.  .This  arch  line  the  architect  has  first  to  conceive  and  shape 

in  his  mind^  OS  Opposed   to,  nr  hmnng  tn/hpp^  ^yfafn  *VwoQ 

which  will  try  to  distort  it  this  way  and^that ;  and  against 
which  he  is  first  to  direct  and  bcnfl  tht  liaa  ifificlf  into  ag 
strong  resistance  as  he  may,  and  then,  with  his  voussoirs  and 
what  else  he  can,  to  guard  it,  and  help  it,  and  keep  it  to  its 
duty  and  in  its  shape.  So  the  arch  line  is  t^gjnoral  charac- 
ter of  the  arch,  and  the  adverse  forces  are  its  temptations 
and  the  voussoirs,  and  what  else  we  may  help  it  with,  are  its 
armor  and  its  motives  to  good  conduct 

§  VIL  This  moral  character  of  the  arch  is  called  by  archi- 
tects its  "jjinepf  Resistance. "  There  is  a  great  deal  of  nicety 
in  calculating  it  with  precision,  just  as  there  is  sometimes  in 
finding  out  very  precisely  what  is  a  man's  true  line  of  moral 
conduct ;  but  this,  in  arch  morality  and  in  man  morality,  is  a 
very  simple  and  easily  to  be  understood  principle, — that  if 
either  arch  or  man  expose  themselves  to  their  special  tempta- 
tions or  adverse  forces,  outside  of  the  voussoirs  or  proper  and 
appointed  armor,  both  will  fall.  An  arch  whose  line  of  resist- 
ance is  in  the  middle  of  its  voussoirs  is  perfectly  safe  :  in  pro- 
portion as  the  said  line  runs  near  the  edge  of  its  voussoirs, 
the  arch  is  in  danger,  as  the  man  is  who  nears  temptation  ; 
and  the  moment  the  line  of  resistance  emerges  out  of  the 
voussoirs  the  arch  falls. 

§  vm.  There  are,  therefore,  properly  speaking,  two  arch 
lines.  One  is  the  visible  direction  or  curve  of  the  arch,  which 
may  generally  be  considered  as  the  under  edge  of  its  vous- 
soirs, and  which  has  often  no  more  to  do  with  the  real  stabil- 
ity of  the  arch,  than  a  man's  apparent  conduct  has  with  hia 
heart.  The  other  line,  which  is  the  line  of  resistance,  or  line 
of  good  behavior,  may  or  may  not  be  consistent  with  the  out- 
ward  and  apparent  curves  of  the  arch ;  but  if  not,  then  the 
•ecurity  of  the  arch  depends  simply  upon  this,  whether  tht 


THE  ARCH  LINE.  133 

Voussoirs  which  assume  or  pretend  to  the  one  line  are  wide 
enough  to  include  the  other. 

§  ix.  Now  when  the  reader  is  told  that  the  line  of  resistance 
varies  with  every  change  either  in  place  or  quantity  of  the 
weight  above  the  arch,  he  will  see  at  once  that  we  have  no 
chance  of  arranging  arches  by  their  moral  characters  :  we  can 
only  take  the  apparent  arch  line,  or  visible  direction,  as  a 
ground  of  arrangement.  We  shall  consider  the  possible  or 
probable  forms  or  contours  of  arches  in  the  present  Chapter, 
and  in  the  succeeding  one  the  forms  of  voussoir  and  other 
help  which  may  best  fortify  these  visible  lines  against  every 
temptation  to  lose  their  consistency. 

§  x.  Look  back  to  Fig.  XXIX.  Evidently  the  abstract  or 
ghost  line  of  the  arrangement  at  A  is  a  plain  horizontal  line, 
as  here  at  a,  Fig.  XXX. 
The  abstract  line  of  the 
arrangement  at  B,  Fig. 
XXIX.,  is  composed  of 
two  straight  lines,  set 
against  each  other,  as 
here  at  6.  The  abstract 
line  of  C,  Fig.  XXIX.,  is 
a  curve  of  some  kind,  not 
at  present  determined, 

suppose    c,  Fig.    XXX.    "  FIG.  xxx. 

Then,  as  b  is  two  of  the 
straight  lines  at  a,  set  up  against  each  other,  we  may  conceive 
an  arrangement,  d,  made  up  of  two  of  the  curved  lines  at  c, 
set  against  each  other.  This  is  called  a  pointed  arch,  which 
is  a  contradiction  in  terms :  it  ought  to  be  caUed-a-  curved 
gable  ;  but  it  must  keep  the  name  it  has  got. 

Now  a,  6,  c,  d,  Fig.  XXX.,  are  the  ghosts  of  the  lintel,  the 
gable,  the  arch,  and  the  pointed  arch.  With  the  poor  lintel 
ghost  we  need  trouble  ourselves  no  farther ;  there  are  no 
changes  in  him  :  but  there  is  much  variety  in  the  other  three, 
and  the  method  of  their  variety  will  be  best  discerned  by 
studying  b  and  d,  as  subordinate  tr  and  connected  with  thi 
eimple  arch  at  c, 


134 


TEE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 


§  XL  Many  architects,  especially  the  worst,  have  been  very 
curious  in  designing  out  of  the  way  arches, — elliptical  arches, 
and  four-centred  arches,  so  called,  and  other  singularities. 
The  good  architects  have  generally  been  content,  and  we  for 
the  present  will  be  so,  with  God's  arch,  the  arch  of  the  rain- 
bow and  of  the  apparent  heaven,  and  which  the  sun  shapes 
for  us  as  it  sets  and  rises.  Let  us  watch  the  sun  for  a  moment 
as  it  climbs :  when  it  is  a  quarter  up,  it  will  give  us  the  arch 
a,  Fig.  XXXI  ;  when  it  is  half  up,  b,  and  when  three  quarters 


up,  c.  There  will  be  an  infinite  number  of  arches  between 
these,  but  we  will  take  these  as  sufficient  representatives  of  all. 
Then  a  is  the  low  arch,  b  the  central  or  pure  arch,  c  the  high 
arch,  and  the  rays  of  the  sun  would  have  drawn  for  us  their 
voussoirs. 

§  xn.  We  will  take  these  several  arches  successively,  and 
fixing  the  top  of  each  accurately,  draw  two  right  lines  thence 
to  its  base,  d,  e,  f,  Fig.  XXXI.  Then  these  lines  give  us  the 
relative  gables  of  each  of  the  arches  ;  d  is  the  Italian  or  south- 
ern gable,  e  the  central  gable,/  the  Gothic  gable. 


THE  ARCH  LINE.  135 

§  TTTT.  We  will  again  take  the  three  arches  with  their  gablea 
in  succession,  and  on  each  of  the  sides  of  the  gable,  between 
it  and  the  arch,  we  will  describe  another  arch,  as  at  g,  h,  i. 
Then  the  curves  so  described  give  the  pointed  arches  belong- 
ing to  each  of  the  round  arches  ;  g,  the  flat  pointed  arch,  A, 
the  central  pointed  arch,  and  i,  the  lancet  pointed  arch. 

§  xrv.  If  the  radius  with  which  these  intermediate  curves 
are  drawn  be  the  base  off,  the  last  is  the  equilateral  pointed 
arch,  one  of  great  importance  in  Gothic  work.  But  between 
the  gable  and  circle,  in  all  the  three  figures,  there  are  an  infi- 
nite number  of  pointed  arches,  describable  with  different  radii ; 
and  the  three  round  arches,  be  it  remembered,  are  themselves 
representatives  of  an  infinite  number,  passing  from  the  flattest 
conceivable  curve,  through  the  semicircle  and  horseshoe,  up 
to  the  full  circle. 

The  central  and  the  last  group  are  the  most  important 
The  central  round,  or  semicircle,  is  the  Roman,  the  Byzan- 
tine, and  Norman  arch  ;  and  its  relative  pointed  includes  one 
wide  branch  of  Gothic.  The  horseshoe  round  is  the  Arabic 
and  Moorish  arch,  and  its  relative  pointed  includes  the  whole 
range  of  Arabic  and  lancet,  or  Early  English  and  French 
Gothics.  I  mean  of  course  by  the  relative  pointed,  the  entire 
group  of  which  the  equilateral  arch  is  the  rep- 
resentative. Between  it  and  the  outer  horre- 
shoe,  as  this  latter  rises  higher,  the  reader 
will  find,  on  experiment,  the  great  families  of 
what  may  be  called  the  horseshoe  pointed, —  FlQ 
curves  of  the  highest  importance,  but  which 
are  all  included,  with  English  lancet,  under  the  term,  relative 
pointed  of  the  horseshoe  arch. 

§  xv.  The  groups  above  described  are  all  formed  of  circulai 
arcs,  and  include  all  truly  useful  aud  beautiful  arches  for 
ordinary  work.  I  believe  that  singular  and  complicated 
curves  are  made  use  of  in  modern  engineering,  but  with  these 
the  general  reader  can  have  no  concern :  the  Ponte  della 
Trinita  at  Florence  is  the  most  graceful  instance  I  know  of 
such  structure  ;  the  arch  made  use  of  being  very  subtle,  and 
approximating  to  the  low  ellipse  ;  for  which,  in  common  work, 


i36  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

a  barbarous  pointed  arch,  called  four-centred,  and  composed 
of  bits  of  circles,  is  substituted  by  the  English  builders.  The 
high  ellipse,  I  believe,  exists  in  eastern  architecture.  I  have 
never  myself  met  with  it  on  a  large  scale  ;  but  it  occurs  in  the 
niches  of  the  later  portions  of  the  Ducal  palace  at  Venice,  to- 
gether with  a  singular  hyperbolic  arch,  a  in  Fig.  XXXHL,  to 
be  described  hereafter :  with  such  caprices  we  are  not  here 
concerned. 

§  xvi.  We  are,  however,  concerned  to  notice  the  absurdity 
of  another  form  of  arch,  which,  with  the  four-centred,  belongs 
to  the  English  perpendicular  Gothic. 

Taking  the  gable  of  any  of  the  groups  in  Fig.  XXXL  (sup- 
pose the  equilateral),  here  at  6,  in  Fig.  XXXUL,  the  dotted 


PlO.  XXXIII. 


line  representing  the  relative  pointed  arch,  we  may  evidently 
conceive  an  arch  formed  by  reversed  curves  on  the  inside  of 
the  gable,  as  here  shown  by  the  inner  curved  lines.  I  imag- 
ine the  reader  by  this  time  knows  enough  of  the  nature  of 
arches  to  understand  that,  whatever  strength  or  stability  was 
gained  by  the  curve  on  the  outside  of  the  gable,  exactly  so 
much  is  lost  by  curves  on  the  inside.  The  natural  tendency 
of  such  an  arch  to  dissolution  by  its  own  mere  weight  renders 
it  a  feature  of  detestable  ugliness,  wherever  it  occurs  on  a 
large  scale.  It  is  eminently  characteristic  of  Tudor  work,  and 
it  is  the  profile  of  the  Chinese  roof  (I  say  on  a  large  scale,  be- 
cause this  as  well  as  all  other  capricious  arches,  may  be  made 
secure  by  their  masonry  when  small,  but  not  otherwise). 
Some  allowable  modifications  of  it  will  be  noticed  in  the 
chapter  on  Hoofs. 

§  xvii.  There  is  only  one  more  form  of  arch  which  we  have 
io  notice.     When  the  last  described  arch  is  used,  not  as  the 


THE  ARCH  MASONHr.  137 

principal  arrangement,  but  as  a  mere  heading  to  a  common 
pointed  arch,  we  have  the  form  c,  Fig.  XXXTTI.  Now  this 
is  better  than  the  entirely  reversed  arch  for  two  reasons  ;  first, 
less  of  the  line  is  weakened  by  reversing  ;  secondly,  the  double 
curve  has  a  very  high  aesthetic  value,  not  existing  in  the  mere 
segments  of  circles.  For  these  reasons  arches  of  this  kind  are 
not  only  admissible,  but  even  of  great  desirableness,  when 
their  scale  and  masonry  render  them  secure,  but  above  a  cer- 
tain scale  they  are  altogether  barbarous  ;  and,  with  the  re- 
versed Tudor  arch,  wantonly  employed,  are  the  characteristics 
of  the  worst  and  meanest  schools  of  architecture,  past  or 
present. 

This  double  curve  is  called  the  Ogee ;  it  is  the  profile  of 
many  German  leaden  roofs,  of  many  Turkish  domes  (there 
more  excusable,  because  associated  and  in  sympathy  with  ex- 
quisitely managed  arches  of  the  same  line  in  the  walls  below), 
of  Tudor  turrets,  as  in  Henry  the  Seventh's  Chapel,  and  it  is 
at  the  bottom  or  top  of  sundry  other  blunders  all  over  the 
world. 

§  xvm.  The  varieties  of  the  ogee  curve  are  infinite,  as  the 
reversed  portion  of  it  may  be  engrafted  on  every  other  form 
of  arch,  horseshoe,  round,  or  pointed.  Whatever  is  generally 
worth  of  note  in  these  varieties,  and  in  other  arches  of 
caprice,  we  shall  best  discover  by  examining  their  masonry ; 
for  it  is  by  their  good  masonry  only  that  they  are  rendered 
either  stable  or  beautiful.  To  this  question,  then,  let  us 
address  ourselves. 

CHAPTER  XL 

THE  AKCH  MASONBY. 

§  L  ON  the  subject  of  the  stability  of  arcnes,  volumes  hare 
been  written  and  volumes  more  are  required.  The  reader 
will  not,  therefore,  expect  from  me  any  very  complete  ex- 
planation of  its  conditions  within  the  limits  of  a  single  chap- 
ter. But  that  which  is  necessary  for  him  to  know  is  very 
simple  and  very  easy  ;  and  yet,  I  believe,  some  part  of  it  if 
?ery  little  known,  or  noticed. 


138  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

We  must  first  have  a  clear  idea  of  what  is  meant  by  an 
arch.  Jt^sjijjurved  shell  of  firm  materialSjjonjwhose^J^ack  a 
burden  is  to  be  laid  of  loose  materials.  So  far  as  the  materials 
above  it  *re  net-leese> -but  themselves  hold  togetEeiythe  open- 
ing below  is  not  an  arch,  but  KDL  excfmation.  Note  this  differ- 
ence very  carefully.  If  the  King  of  Sardinia  tunnels  through 
the  Mont  Cenis,  as  he  proposes,  he  will  not  require  to  build 
a  brick  arch  under  his  tunnel  to  carry  the  weight  of  the  Mont 
Cenis :  that  would  need  scientific  masonry  indeed.  The 
Mont  Cenis  will  carry  itself,  by  its  own  cohesion,  and  a 
succession  of  invisible  granite  arches,  rather  larger  than  the 
tunnel.  But  when  Mr.  Brunei  tunnelled  the  Thames  bottom, 
he  needed  to  build  a  brick  arch  to  carry  the  six  or  seven  feet 
of  mud  and  the  weight  of  water  above.  That  is  a  type  of  all 
arches  proper. 

§  n.  Now  arches,  in  practice,  partake  of  the  nature  of  the 
two.  So  far  as  their  masonry  above  is  Mont-Cenisian,  that  is 
to  say,  colossal  in  comparison  of  them,  and  granitic,  so  that 
the  arch  is  a  mere  hole  in  the  rock  substance  of  it,  the  form 
of  the  arch  is  of  no  consequence  whatever  :  it  may  be  rounded, 
or  lozenged,  or  ogee'd,  or  anything  else ;  and  in  the  noblest 
architecture  there  is  always  some  character  of  this  kind  given 
to  the  masonry.  It  is  independent  enough  not  to  care  about 
the  holes  cut  in  it,  and  does  not  subside  into  them  like  sand. 
But  the  theory  of  arches  does  not  presume  on  any  such  con- 
dition of  things ;  it  allows  itself  only  the  shell  of  the  arch 
proper  ;  the  vertebrae,  carrying  their  marrow  of  resistance ; 
and,  above  this  shell,  it  assumes  the  wall  to  be  in  a  state  of 
flux,  bearing  down  on  the  arch,  like  water  or  sand,  with  its 
whole  weight.  And_jFarther,  jhe^  jaroblem  which  is  to  be 
solved  by  the  arch  builder  is  not  merely,  to  carry^fciS  wjeigEt, 
but  to  carry  it  with  the  least  thicknesgj)f  shell!  It  is  easy  to 
carry  it  by  continually  thickening  your  voussoirs  :  if  you  have 
six  feet  depth  of  sand  or  gravel  to  carry,  and  you  choose  to 
employ  granite  voussoirs  six  feet  thick,  no  question  but  your 
arch  is  safe  enough.  But  it  is  perhaps  somewhat  too  costly . 
the  thing  to  be  done  is  to  carry  the  sand  or  gravel  with  brick 
roussoirs,  six  inches  thick,  or,  at  any  rate,  with  the  least 


PLATE  III.— ARCII  MASONRY. 


THE  ARCH  MASONRY.  139 

thickness  of  voussoir  which  will  be  safe  ;  and  to  do  this  re- 
quires peculiar  arrangement  of  the  lines  of  the  arch.  There 
are  many  arrangements,  useful  all  in  their  way,  but  we  have 
only  to  do,  in  the  best  architecture,  with  the  simplest  anil 
most  easily  understood.  We  have  first  to  note  those  which 
regard  the  actual  shell  of  the  arch,  and  then  we  shall  give  a 
few  examples  of  the  superseding  of  such  expedients  by  Mont- 
Cenisian  masonry. 

§  m.  What  we  have  to  say  will  apply  to  all  arches,  but  the 
central  pointed  arch  is  the  best  for  general  illustration.  Let 
a,  Plate  HE.,  be  the  shell  of  a  pointed  arch  with  loose  loading 
above  ;  and  suppose  you  find  that  shell  not  quite  thick 
enough  ;  and  that  the  weight  bears  too  heavily  on  the  top  of 
the  arch,  and  is  likely  to  break  it  in  :  ^ou-proeeed  to  thicken 
your  shell,  but  need  you  thicken  it  all  equally  ?  Not  so_^ou 
would  only  waste  your  good  voussqirs^  If  you  have  any  coin- 
ynon  sense  jrou  will  thicken  it  at  the  top,  where  a  Mylodon's 
skull  is  thickened  for  the  same  purpose  _(aad__anm  ft  human 
as  at  b.  The  pebbles  and  gravel  above  _will 


shoot  off  it  right  and  left^s  the  bullets  do  off  a  cuiras- 
sier's breastplate,  and  will  have  no  chance  of  beating  it  in. 

If  still  it  be  not  strong  enough,  a  farther  addition  may  be 
made,  as  at  c,  now  thickening  the  voussoirs  a  little  at  the 
base  also.  But  as  this  may  perhaps  throw  the  arch  incon- 
veniently high,  or  occasion  a  waste  of  voussoirs  at  the  top, 
we  may  employ  another  expedient. 

§  nr.  I  imagine  the  reader's  common  sense,  if  not  his  pre- 
YIOUS  knowledge,  will  enable  him  to  understand  that  if  the 
arch  at  a,  Plate  HL,  burst  in  at  the  top,  it  must  burst  out  at 
the  sides.  Set  up  two  pieces  of  pasteboard,  edge  to  edge, 
and  press  them  down  with  your  hand,  and  you  will  see  them 
bend  out  at  the  sides.  Therefore,  if  you  can  kaep  the  arch 
from  starting  out  at  the  points  p.p.  ii_cannot  curve  in  at  the 
top,  put  what  weight  on  it  you  will,  unless  by  sheer  crushing 
of  the  stones  to  fragments. 

§  v.  Now  you  may  fcg£p-t,h«  arcb-feom  starting  out  at^hy 
Joadinjt  it  at  p,  putting  more  weight  upon  it  and  against  it  at 
that  point  ;  and  this,  in  practice,  is  the  way  it  is  usually  dona, 


THE  STORES  OF   VENICE. 

But  we  assume  at  present  that  tLe  wjeighi-abose.  isjiand  o* 
-water,  quite  unmanageable,  not  to  bg^directed  to  thfi_poini* 
jKe_choose  ;_.and  in  practice,  it  may  sometimes  happen  that 
we  cannot  put  weight  upon  the  arch  at  p.  We  may  perhaps 
want  an  opening  above  it,  or  it  may  be  at  the  side  trf  the 
building,  and  many  other  circumstances  may  occur  to  Jiinder 
as. 

§  VL  But  if  we  are  not  sure  that  we  can  put  weight  above 
it,  we  Are,  ^perfectly  sure  tfeatjwe^can  hang  weight  underit. 
You  may  always-thicken  jour-fihelLiiiside^nd  put  the  weight 
upon  it  as  at  x  x,  in  d,  Plate  HL  Not  much  chance  of  its 
bursting  out  at  p,  now,  is  there  ? 

§  vn.  Whenever,  therefore,  an  arch  has  to  bear  vertical 
pressure,  it  will  bear  it  better  when  its  shell  is  shaped  as  at  b 
or  d,  than  as  at  a  :  b  and  d  are,  therefore,  the  types  of  arches 
built  to  resist  vertical  pressure,  all  over  the  world,  and  from 
the  beginning  of  architecture  to  its  end.  None  others  can  be 
compared  with  them  :  all  are  imperfect  except  these. 
The 


thej_are_the  yeryjsqul  .and, 
yet  never  thoroughly  understood  nor  found  in  perfection, 
fixcepHn  Italy  »  thejQorthern  buildersjworjdngjQfteiu  even,  in 
the  best  times,  with  the  vulgar  form  at  a. 

The  form  at  b  is  rarely  found  in  the  north  :  its  perfection 
is  in  the  Lombardic  Gothic  ;  and  branches  of  it,  good  and  bad 
according  to  their  use,  occur  in  Saracenic  work. 

§  vm.  The  true  and  perfect  cusp  is  single—OJily^.  But  it 
was  probably  invented  (by  the  Arabs  ?)  not  as  a  constructive, 
but  a  decorative  feature,  in  pure  fantasy  ;  and  in  early  northern 
work  it  is  only  the  application  to  the  arch  of  the  foliation,  so 
called,  of  penetrated  spaces  in  stone  surfaces,  already  enough 
explained  in  the  "  Seven  Lamps,"  Chap.  IIL,  p.  85  el  seq.  It 
is  degraded  in  dignity,  and  loses  its  usefulness,  exactly  in 
proportion  to  its  multiplication  on  the  arch.  In  later  archi- 
tecture, especially  English  Tudor,  it  is  sunk  into  dotage,  and 
becomes  a  simple  excrescence,  a  bit  of  stone  pinched  up  out 
of  the  arch,  as  a  cook  pinches  the  paste  at  the  edge  of  a  pie. 

§  EL  _Ife«  depth  and  plac«  of  the  cusp,  that  ia  to 


PLATE  IV. — AKCII  MASONRY. 


THE  ARCH  MASONRY.  14" 

exacj_application  to  the  shoulder  of  the  curve  of  the  arch, 
the  direction_ol  the  weight  to  ba  siiHtojjjflfL    I  have 


spent  more  than  a  month,  and  that  in  hard  work  too,  in  merely 
trying  to  get  the  forms  of  cusps  into  perfect  order  :  whereby 
the  reader  may  guess  that  I  have  not  space  to  go  into  the 
subject  now  ;  but  I  shall  hereafter  give  a  few  of  the  leading 
and  most  perfect  examples,  with  their  measures  and  masonry. 

§  x.  The  reader  now  understands  all  that  he  need  about 
the  shell  of  the  arch,  considered  as  an  united  piece  of  stone. 

He  has  next  to  consider  the  shape  of  the  voussoirs.  This, 
as  much  as  is  required,  he  will  be  able  best  to  comprehend  by 
a  few  examples  ;  by  which  I  shall  be  able  also  to  illustrate,  or 
rather  which  will  force  me  to  illustrate,  some  of  the  methods 
of  Mont-Cenisian  masonry,  which  were  to  be  the  second  part 
of  our  subject. 

§  XL  1  and  2,  Plate  IV.  ,  are  two  cornices  ;  1  from  St. 
Antonio,  Padua  ;  2,  from  the  Cathedral  of  Sens.  I  want  them 
for  cornices  ;  but  I  have  put  them  in  this  plate  because, 
though  their  arches  are  filled  up  behind,  and  are  in  fact  mere 
blocks  of  stone  with  arches  cut  into  their  faces,  they  illustrate 
the  constant  masonry  of  small  arches,  both  in  Italian  and 
Northern  Romanesque,  but  especially  Italian,  each  arch  being 
cut  out  of  its  own  proper  block  of  stone  :  this  is  Monfc- 
Cenisian  enough,  on  a  small  scale. 

3  is  a  window  from  Carnarvon  Castle,  and  very  primitive 
and  interesting  in  manner,  —  one  of  its  arches  being  of  one 
stone,  the  other  of  two.     And  here  we  have  an  instance  of  a 
form  of  arch  which  would  be  barbarous  enough  on  a  large 
scale,  and  of  many  pieces;  but  quaint  and  agreeable  thus 
massively  built. 

4  is  from  a  little  belfry  in  a  Swiss  village  above  Vevay  ;  on€ 
fancies  the  window  of  an  absurd  form,  seen  in  the  distance, 
but  one  is  pleased  with  it  on  seeing  its  masonry.     It  could 
hardly  be  stronger. 

§  xn.  These  then  are  arches  cut  of  one  block.  The  next 
step  is  to  form  them  of  two  pieces,  set  together  at  the  head 
of  the  arch.  6,  from  the  Eremitani,  Padua,  is  very  quaint 
and  primitive  IE  manner  :  it  is  a  curious  church  altogether, 


142  THE  STONES  OF  VENICB. 

and  has  some  strange  traceries  cut  out  of  single  blocks.  One 
is  given  in  the  "Seven  Lamps,"  Plate  VII.,  in  the  left-hand 
corner  at  the  bottom. 

1,  JrojiLtkeJFraii,  Venice,  ver^firmjand^fin^andj.d^irajil^. 
decorated,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter.  5,  the  simple  two-pieced 
construction,  wrought  with  the  most  exquisite  proportion  and 
precision  of  workmanship,  as  is  everything  else  in  the  glorious 
church  to  which  it  belongs,  San  Fermo  of  Verona.  The  ad- 
dition of  the  top  piece,  which  completes  the  circle,  does  not 
affect  the  plan  of  the  beautiful  arches,  with  their  simple  and 
perfect  cusps ;  but  it  is  highly  curious,  and  serves  to  show 
how  the  idea  of  the  cusp  rose  out  of  mere  foliation.  The 
whole  of  the  architecture  of  this  church  may  be  characterised 
as  exhibiting  the  maxima  of  simplicity  in  construction,  and 
perfection  in  •workmanship, — a  rare  unison  :  for,  in  general, 
simple  designs  are  rudely  worked,  and  as  the  builder  perfects 
his  execution,  he  complicates  his  plan.  Nearly  all  the  arches 
of  San  Fermo  are  two-pieced. 

§  xm.  We  have  seen  the  construction  with  one  and  two 
pieces :  a  and  b,  Fig.  8,  Plate  IV.,  ^rje^^e__general_types  of 
the  construction  with  three  piecea,  tJneuspejl  «"ifl  (f^r^^^r  A 
and  d  with  five  pieces,  uncusped  and  cusped.  Of  these  the 
three-pieced  construction  is  of  enormous  importance,  and  must 
detain  us  some  time.  The  five-pieced  is  the  three-pieced  with 
a  joint  added  on  each  side,  and  is  also  of  great  importance. 
The  four-pieced,  which  is  the  two-pieced  with  added  joints, 
rarely  occurs,  and  need  not  detain  us. 

§  xiv.  It  will  be  remembered  that  hi  first  working  out  the 
principle  of  the  arch,  we  composed  the  arch  of  three  pieces. 
Three  is  the  smallest  number  which  can  exhibit  the  real 
principle  of  arch  masonry,  and  it  may  be  considered  as  repre- 
sentative of  all  arches  built  on  that  principle  ;  the  one  and 
two-pieced  arches  being  microscopic  Mont-Cenisian,  mere 
caves  in  blocks  of  stone,  or  gaps  between  two  rocks  leaning 
together. 

But  the  three-pieced  arch  is  properly  representative  of  alL; 
and  the  larger  and  more  complicated  constructions^rejnerelj 
produced  by  keeping  the  central  piece  for  what  i*  called 


THE  ARCH  MASONRY.  143 

putting  additional  joints  at  the  sides.  Now  so 
long  as  an  arch  is  pure  circular  or  pointed,  it  does  not  matte* 
how  many  joints  or  voussoirs  you  have,  nor  where  the  joints 
are  ;  nay,  you  may  joint  your  keystone  itself,  and  make  it 
two-pieced.  But  if  the  arch  be  of  any  bizarre  form,  espe- 
cially ogee,  the  joints  must  be  in  particular  places,  and  the 
masonry  simple,  or  it  will  not  be  thoroughly  good  and  secure  ; 
and  the  fine  schools  of  the  ogee  arch  have  only  arisen  in 
countries  where  it  was  the  custom  to  build  arches  of  few 
pieces. 

§  xv.  The  typical  pure  pointed  arch  of  Venice  is  a  five- 
pieced  arch,  with  its  stones  in  three  orders  of  magnitude,  the 
longest  being  the  lowest,  as  at  62,  Plate  HL  If  the  arch  be 
very  large,  a  fourth  order  of  magnitude  is  added,  as  at  a,. 
The  portals  of  the  palaces  of  Venice  have  one  or  other  of 
these  masonries,  almost  without  exception.  Now,  as  one 
piece  is  added  to  make  a  larger  door,  one  piece  is  taken  away 
to  make  a  smaller  one,  or  a  window,  and  the  masonry  type  of 
the  Venetian  Gothic  window  is  consequently  three-pieced,  cs. 

§  XVL  The  reader  knows  already  where  a  cusp  is  useful.  .It 
is  wanted,  be  will  remember,  to  give  weight  to  thoee  aide 
jtones,  and  draw  them  inwards  against  the  tbnut  of  the  top 
stone.  Take  one  of  the  side  stones  of  c3  out  for  a  moment,  as 

at  d.      Now   tbq  pfnjiPr  pWA   nf   t.liA  pnap   npfflnJtt  vajffiB  WJth 

|he  weight  which  it  bears  or  ^WfliTfl"  ;  *>11*1  ***  practice  this 
nicety  is  rarely  observed  ;  jjie  place  of  the  cusp  is  almost  &\- 
ways  defoy^^?^<3-J^^a*jigt^o  cjf>TiRiHfira.ti<yn«-  JUKI  it  ifl  evident 

that  the  variations  in  its  place  may  be  infinite.  Consider  the 
cusp  as  a  wave  passing  up  the  side  stone  from  its  bottom  to  its 
top  ;  then  you  will  have  the  succession  of  forms  from  e,  to  g 
th,  infinifp.  ftegrrftpg  f>f  Iran  HI  ting  JfrnTn  each  to 


each  ;  but  of  which  you  may  take  e,  f,  and  g,  as  representing 
three  great  families  of  cusped  arches.  Use  e  for  your  side 
stones,  and  you  have  an  arch  as  that  at  h  below,  which  may 
be  called  a  down-cusped  arch.  Use/  for  the  side  stone,  and 
you  have  i,  which  may  be  called  a  mid-cusped  arch.  Use  g. 
and  you  have  k,  an  up-cusped  arch. 

§  xvn.  The  reader  will  observe  thaLJLgall  the  arch  mid* 


144  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

jiusped,  not  when  the  cusped  point  is  in  the  middle  of  the 
curve  of  the  arch,  Typ^-when  if.  ja  in   the 


piece,  and  also  that  where  the  side  pieces  join  the  keystone 
there  will  be  a  change,  perhaps  somewhat  abrupt,  in  the  cur- 
vature. 

I  have  preferred  to  call  the  arch  niid-cusped  with  respect 
to  its  side  piece  than  with  respect  to  its  own  curve,  because 
the  most  beautiful-  Xiothic  arches  in  the  world,  those  of  the 
Lombard  Gothic,  have,  in  all  the  instances  I  have  examined, 
a.  formjaorfLpr  IPBfl  approximating  ^  *i"'°  mi^-nnappd  cm*  at 
t_(Plate  PI.  V  Jmk-  having  the  curvature  of  the  cusp  carried 
up  into  the  keystone,  as  we  shall  see  presently  :  where,  how- 
ever, the  arch  is  built  of  many  voussoirs,  a  mid-cusped  arch 
will  mean  one  which  has  the  point  of  the  cusp  midway  be- 
tween its  own  base  and  apex. 

The  Gothic  arch  of  Venice  is  almost  invariably  up-cusped 
as  at  k.  The  reader  may  note  that,  in  both  down-cusped  and 
up-cusped  arches,  the  piece  of  stone,  added  to  form  the  cusp, 
is  of  the  shape  of  a  scymitar,  held  down  in  the  one  case  and 
up  in  the  other. 

§  xvm.  Now,  in  the  arches  h,  i,  k,  a  slight  modification  has 
been  made  in  the  form  of  the  central  piece,  in  order  that  it 
may  continue  the  curve  of  the  cusp.  This  modification  is  not 
to  be  given  to  it  in  practice  without  considerable  nicety  of 
workmanship  ;  and  some  curious  results  took  place  in  Venice 
from  this  difficulty. 

At  /  (Plate  HE.)  is  the  shape  of  the  Venetian  side  stone, 
with  its  cusp  detached  from  the  arch.  Nothing  can  possibly 
be  better  or  more  graceful,  or  have  the  weight  better  disposed 
in  order  to  cause  it  to  nod  forwards  against  the  keystone,  as 
above  explained,  Ch.  X.  §  IL,  where  I  developed  the  whole 
system  of  the  arch  from  three  pieces,  in  order  that  the  reader 
might  now  clearly  see  the  use  of  the  weight  of  the  cusp. 

Now  a  Venetian  Gothic  palace  has  usually  at  least  three 
stories  ;  with  perhaps  ten  or  twelve  windows  in  each  story, 
and  this  on  two  or  three  of  its  sides,  requiring  altogether 
some  hundred  to  a  hundred  and  fifty  side  pieces. 

I  Lave  no  doubt,  from  observation  of  the  way  the  windows 


THB  ARCH  MASONRY.  145 

ftre  set  together,  that  the  side  pieces  were  carved  in  pairs, 
like  hooks,  of  which  the  keystones  were  to  be  the  eyes  ;  that 
these  aide  pieces  were  ordered  by  the  architect  in  the  gross, 
and  were  used  by  him  sometimes  for  wider,  sometimes  for 
narrower  windows  ;  bevelling  the  two  ends  as  required,  fit- 
ting in  keystones  as  he  best  could,  and  now  and  then  varying 
the  arrangement  by  turning  the  side  pieces  upside  down. 

There  were  various  conveniences  in  this  way  of  working1, 
one  of  the  principal  being  that  the  side  pieces  with  their  cusps 
were  always  cut  to  their  complete  form,  and  that  no  part  of 
the  cusp  was  carried  out  into  the  keystone,  which  followed  the 
curve  of  the  outer  arch  itself.  The  ornaments  of  the  cusp 
might  thus  be  worked  without  any  troublesome  reference  to 
the  rest  of  the  arch. 

§  xix.  Now  let  us  take  a  pair  of  side  pieces,  made  to  order, 
like  that  at  /,  and  see  what  we  can  make  of  them.  We  will 
try  to  fit  them  first  with  a  keystone  which  continues  the 
curve  of  the  outer  arch,  as  at  m.  This  the  reader  assuredly 
thinks  an  ugly  arch.  There  are  a  great  many  of  them  in 
Venice,  the  ugliest  things  there,  and  the  Venetian  builders 
quickly  began  to  feel  them  so.  What  could  they  do  to  bet- 
ter them  ?  The  arch  at  m  has  a  central  piece  of  the  form  r. 
Substitute  for  it  a  piece  of  the  form  s,  and  we  have  the  arch 
at  n. 

§  xx.  This  arch  atn  is  not  so  strong  as  that  at  m  ;  but, 
builtjjfjyood  marbleTand  with  itiTpeces  of  proper  thickness, 
firinilgh  for  all  practical  pnrposea  on  a 


.small  scale.  I  have  examined  at  least  two  thousand  windows 
of  this  kind  and  of  the  other  Venetian  ogees,  of  which  that  afc 
y  (in  which  the  plain  side-piece  d  is  used  instead  of  the 
cusped  one)  is  the  simplest  ;  and  I  never  found  one,  even  in 
the  most  ruinous  palaces  (in  which  they  had  had  to  sustain  the 
distorted  weight  of  falling  walls)  in  which  the  central  piece 
was  fissured  ;  and  this  is  the  only  danger  to  which  the  win- 
dow is  exposed  ;  in  other  respects  it  is  as  strong  an  arch  aa 
can  be  built. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  change  from  the  r  keystona 
to  the  s  keystone  was  instantaneous.    It  was  a  change  wrought 
Voi,  L—  10 


U6  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

out  by  many  curious  experiments,  which  we  shall  have  to 
trace  hereafter,  and  to  throw  the  resultant  varieties  of  form 
into  their  proper  groups. 

§  XXL  One  step  more  :  I  take  a  mid-cusped  side  piece  in 
its  block  form  at  t,  with  the  bricks  which  load  the  back  of  it. 
Now,  as  these  bricks  support  it  behind,  and  since,  as  far  as 
the  use  of  the  cusp  is  concerned,  ji_ matters  not  whether_its_ 
weight  be  in  marble  or  bricta^  there  STnothing  to  hinder 
us  from  cutting  out  some  of  the  marble,  Q.H  at.  TyaDd_fil1iTig-- 
\ipjthe  spac.e_  wit.Vi  V>n'/»frp.  ( Why  we  should  take  a^fancy  to 
do  this,  I  do  not  pretend  to  guess  at  present ;  all  I  have  to 
assert  is,  that,  if  the  fancy  should  strike  us?  there  wrmlrl  V>A 
no  harn^  in  ^)  Substituting  this  side  piece  for  the  other  in 
the  window  n,  we  have  that  at  w,  which  may,  perhaps,  be  of 
some  service  to  us  afterwards  ;  here  we  have  nothing  more  to 
do  with  it  than  to  note  that,  thus  built,  and  properly  backed 
by  brickwork,  jt^is  just  aa  strong  and  saf e  a_Jorm  as  Jhfit  at 
n  /  but  that  this,  as  weUasTevery  variety  of  ogee  arch,  de- 
pends entirely  for  its  safety,  fitness,  and  beauty,  on  the 
masonry  which  we  have  just  analysed  ;  and  that,  built  on  a 
large  scale,  and  with  many  voussoirs,  all  such  arches  would  be 
unsafe  and  absurd  in  general  architecture.  Yet  they  may  be 
used  occasionally  for  the  sake  of  the  exquisite  beauty  of  which 
their  rich  and  fantastic  varieties  admit,  and  sometimes  for  the 
sake  of  another  merit,  exactly  the  opposite  of  the  construc- 
tional ones  we  are  at  present  examining,  that  they  seem  to 
stand  by  enchantment. 

§  xxii.  In  the  above  reasonings,  the  inclination  of  the  joints 
of  the  voussoirs  to  the  curves  of  the  arch  has  not  been  con- 
sidered. It  is  a  question  of  much  nicety,  and  which  I  have 
not  been  able  as  yet  fully  to  investigate  :  but  the  natural  idea 
of  the  arrangement  of  these  lines  (which  in  round  arches  are 
of  course  perpendicular  to  the  curve)  would  be  that  every 
voussoir  should  have  the  lengths  of  its  outer  and  inner  arched 
surface  in  the  same  proportion  to  each  other.  Either  this 
actual  law,  or  a  close  approximation  to  it,  is  assuredly  en- 
forced in  the  best  Gothic  buildings. 

$  xmi.  I  may  sum  up  all  that  it  is  necessary  for  the  reader 


ARCH  MASONRY. 


TffS  ARCH  MA80NRT.  147 

to  keep  in  mind  of  the  general  laws  connected  with  this  sub- 
ject, by  giving  him  an  example  of  each  of  the  two  forms  ol 
the  perfect  Gothic  arch,  uncusped  and  cusped,  treated  with 
the  most  simple  and  magnificent  masonry,  and  partly,  in  both 
cases,  Mont-Cenisian. 

The  first,  Plate  V.,  is  a  window  from  the  Broletto  of  Como. 
It  shows,  in  its  filling,  first,  the  single-pieced  arch,  carried  on 
groups  of  four  shafts,  and  a  single  slab  of  marble  filling  the 
space  above,  and  pierced  with  a  quatrefoil  (Mont-Cenisian, 
this),  while  the  mouldings  above  are  each  constructed  with  a 
separate  system  of  voussoirs,  all  of  them  shaped,  I  think,  on 
the  principle  above  stated,  §  XXIL,  in  alternate  serpentine  and 
marble ;  the  outer  arch  being  a  noble  example  of  the  pure 
uncusped  Gothic  construction,  b  of  Plate  TTT. 

§  xxiv.  Fig.  XXXIV.  is  the  masonry  of  the  side  arch  of, 
as  far  as  I  know  or  am  able  to  judge,  the  most  perfect  Gothic 
sepulchral  monument  in  the  world,  the  foursquare  canopy  of 
the  (nameless  ?  )  *  tomb  standing  over  the  small  cemetery  gate 
of  the  Church  of  St.  Anastasia  at  Verona.  I  shall  have  fre- 
quent occasion  to  recur  to  this  monument,  and,  I  believe, 
shall  be  able  sufficiently  to  justify  the  terms  in  which  I  speak 
of  it :  meanwhile,  I  desire  only  that  the  reader  should  observe 
the  severity  and  simplicity  of  the  arch  lines,  the  exquisitely 
delicate  suggestion  of  the  ogee  curve  in  the  apex,  and  chiefly 
the  use  of  the  cusp  in  giving  inward  weight  to  the  great  pieces 
of  stone  on  the  flanks  of  the  arch,  and  preventing  their  thrust 
outwards  from  being  severely  thrown  on  the  lowermost  stones. 
The  effect  of  this  arrangement  is,  that  the  whole  massy  canopy 
is  sustained  safely  by  four  slender  pillars  (as  will  be  seen  here- 
after in  the  careful  plate  I  hope  to  give  of  it),  these  pillars 
being  rather  steadied  than  materially  assisted  against  the 
thrust,  by  iron  bars,  about  an  inch  thick,  connecting  them  at 
the  heads  of  the  abaci ;  a  feature  of  peculiar  importance 
in  this  monument,  inasmuch  as  we  know  it  to  be  part  of  the 

*  At  least  I  cannot  find  any  account  of  it  in  Maffei's  "Verona,"  nor 
anywhere  else,  to  be  depended  upon.  It  is,  I  doubt  not.  a  work  of  the 
beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century.  Vide  Appendix  19,  "  Tombs  at 
St.  Anastasia." 


148 


sTGjy'ss  o#- 


original  construction,  by  a  beautiful  little  Gothic  wreathed 
pattern,  like  one  of  the  hems  of  garments  of  Fra  Angelica, 
running  along  the  iron  bar  itself  So  carefully  >  and  so  far5  ie 


£XXIV. 


ftie  system  of  decoration  carried  out  in  this  pure  and  Joveiv 
monument,  my  most  beloved  throughout  all  the  length  ana 
breadth  of  Italy  ;  — chief  as  I  think,  among  all  the  sepulchral 
fuarbles  of  a  land  of  mourning. 


THE  ARCH  LOAD. 


CHAPTEK    XIL 

THE    AKCH    LOAD. 

§  L  IN  the  preceding  enquiry  we  have  always  supposed 
sither  that  the  load  upon  the  arch  was  perfectly  loose,  as  of 
gravel  or  sand,  or  that  it  was  Mont-Cenisian,  and  formed  one 
mass  with  the  arch  voussoirs,  of  more  or  less  compactness. 

In  practice,  the  state  is  usually  something  between  the  two. 
Over  bridges  and  tunnels  it  sometimes  approaches  to  the  con 
dition  of  mere  dust  or 
yielding  earth ;  but  in 
architecture  it  is  mostly 
firm  masonry,  not  alto- 
gether acting  with  the 
voussoirs,  yet  by  no  means 
bearing  on  them  with  per- 
fectly dead  weight,  but 
locking  itself  together 
above  them,  and  capable 
of  being  thrown  into  forms 
which  relieve  them,  in 
some  degree,  from  its 
pressure. 

§  n.  It  is  evident  that  if 
we  are  to  place  a  contin- 
uous roof  above  the  line 
of  arches,  we  must  fill  up 
the  intervals  between 
them  on  the  tops  of  the 

columns.  We  have  at  pres-  PIQ  yxyv 

ent   nothing    granted    us 

but  the  bare  masonry,  as  here  at  a.  Fig  XXXV.,  and  w» 
must  fill  up  the  intervals  between  the  semicircle  so  as  to 
obtain  a  level  line  of  support.  We  may  first  do  this  simply 
as  at  6,  with  plain  mass  of  wall ;  so  laying  the  roof  on  the  top, 
which  is  the  method  of  the  pure  Byzantine  and  Italian  Roman* 


150 


THE  STONES  Of    VENICE. 


esque.  But  if  we  find 
too  much  stress  is  thus 
laid  on  the  arches,  we 
may  introduce  small 
second  shafts  on  the  top 
of  the  great  shaft,  a,  Fig 
XXXVL,  which  may  as- 
sist in  carrying  the  roof, 
conveying  great  part  of 
its  weight  at  once  to  the 
heads  of  the  main  shafts, 
and  relieving  from  its 
pressure  the  centres  of 
the  arches. 

§  in.  The  new  shaft 
thus  introduced  may 
either  remain  lifted  on 
the  head  of  the  great 
shaft,  or  may  be  carried 
to  the  ground  in  front  of 
it,  or  through  it,  6,  Fig. 
XXXVL  ;  in  which  latter 
case  the  main  shaft  di- 
vides into  two  or  more 
minor  shafts,  and  forms 
a  group  with  the  shaft 
brought  down  from 
above. 

§  rv.  When  this  shaft, 
brought  from  roof  to 
ground,  is  subordinate  to 
the  main  pier,  and  either 
is  carried  down  the  face 
of  it,  or  forms  no  large 
part  of  the  group,  the  principle  is  Romanesque  or  Gothic,  6, 
Fig.  XXXVL  When  it  becomes  a  bold  central  shaft,  and 
the  main  pier  splits  into  two  minor  shafts  on  its  sides,  the 
orinciple  is  Classical  or  Palladian,  c,  Fijz.  XXXVL  Which 


FlO.  XXX  Vi. 


THE  ARCH  LOAD.  151 

fetter  arrangement  becomes  absurd  or  unsatisfactory  in  pro- 
portion to  the  sufficiency  of  the  main  shaft  to  carry  the  root 
without  the  help  of  the  minor  shafts  or  arch,  which  in  man; 
instances  of  Palladian  work  look  as  if  they  might  be  removed 
without  danger  to  the  building. 

§  v.  The  form  a  is  a  more  pure  Northern  Gothic  type  than 
even  6,  which  is  the  connecting  link  between  it  and  the  clas- 
rical  type.  It  is  found  chiefly  in  English  and  other  northern 
Gothic,  and  in  early  Lombardic,  and  is,  I  doubt  not,  derived 
as  above  explained,  Chap.  I.  §  xxvn.  6  is  a  general  French 
Gothic  and  French  Romanesque  form,  as  in  great  purity  at 
Valence. 

The  small  shafts  of  the  form  a  and  6,  as  being  northern, 
are  generally  connected  with  steep  vaulted  roofs,  and  receive 
for  that  reason  the  name  of  vaulting  shafts. 

§  VL  Of  these  forms  6,  Fig.  XXXV.,  is  the  purest  and 
most  sublime,  expressing  the  power  of  the  arch  most  distinctly. 
All  the  others  have  some  appearance  of  dovetailing  and  mor- 
ticing of  timber  rather  than  stonework  ;  nor  have  I  evey  yet 
seen  a  single  instance,  quite  satisfactory,  of  the  management 
of  the  capital  of  the  main  shaft,  when  it  had  either  to  sustain 
the  base  of  the  vaulting  shaft,  as  in  a,  or  to  suffer  it  to  pass 
through  it,  as  in  6,  Fig.  XXXVI.  Nor  is  the  bracket  which 
frequently  carries  the  vaulting  shaft  in  English  work  a  fitting 
support  for  a  portion  of  the  fabric  which  is  at  all  events  pre- 
sumed to  carry  a  considerable  part  of  the  weight  of  the  root 

§  vn.  The  triangular  spaces  on  the  flanks  of  the  arch  are 
called  Spandrils,  and  if  the  masonry  of  these  should  be  found, 
in  any  of  its  forms,  too  heavy  for  the  arch,  their  weight  may 
be  diminished,  while  their  strength  remains  the  same,  by  pierc- 
ing them  with  circular  holes  or  lights.  This  is  rarely  neces- 
sary in  ordinary  architecture,  though  sometimes  of  great  use 
in  bridges  and  iron  roofs  (a  succession  of  such  circles  may  be 
seen,  for  instance,  in  the  spandrils  at  the  Euston  Square 
station) ;  but,  from  its  constructional  value,  it  becomes  the 
best  form  in  which  to  arrange  spandril  decorations,  as  we 
shall  see  hereafter. 

§  vm.  The  height  of  the  load  above  the  arch  is  determined 


152  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

by  the  needs  of  the  building  and  possible  length  of  the  shaft , 
but  with  this  we  have  at  present  nothing  to  do,  for  we  have 
performed  the  task  which  was  set  us.  We  have  ascertained, 
as  it  was  required  that  we  should  in  §  vi.  of  Chap.  III.  (A), 
the  construction  of  walls  ;  (B),  that  of  piers  ;  (C),  that  of  piera 
with  lintels  or  arches  prepared  for  roofing.  We  have  next, 

therefore,  to  examine  (D)  the  structure  of  the  roof. 

\ 


CHAPTER  XTTT. 

THE   BOOF. 

§  L  HITHERTO  our  enquiry  has  been  unembarrassed  by  any 
considerations  relating  exclusively  either  to  the  exterior  or 
interior  of  buildings.  But  it  can  remain  so  no  longer.  As 
far  as  the  architect  is  concerned,  one  side  of  a  wall  is  gener- 
ally the  same  as  another  ;  but  in  the  roof  there  are  usually 
two  distinct  divisions  of  the  structure  ;  one,  a  shell,  vault,  or 
flat  ceiling,  internally  visible,  the  other,  an  upper  structure, 
built  of  timber,  to  protect  the  lower  ;  or  of  some  different 
form,  to  support  it.  Sometimes,  indeed,  the  internally  visi- 
ble structure  is  the  real  roof,  and  sometimes  there  are  more 
than  two  divisions,  as  in  St.  Paul's,  where  we  have  a  central 
shell  with  a  mask  below  and  above.  Still  it  will  be  conven- 
ient to  remember  the  distinction  between  the  part  of  the  roof 
which  is  usually  visible  from  within,  and  whose  only  business 
is  to  stand  strongly,  and  not  fall  in,  which  I  shall  call  the 
Roof  Proper ;  and,  secondly,  the  upper  roof,  which,  being 
often  partly  supported  by  the  lower,  is  not  so  much  con- 
cerned with  its  own  stability  as  with  the  weather,  and  is  ap- 
pointed to  throw  off  snow,  and  get  rid  of  rain,  as  fast  as  pos- 
sible, which  I  shall  call  the  Roof  Mask. 

§  n.  It  is,  however,  needless  for  me  to  engage  the  reader 
in  the  discussion  of  the  various  methods  of  construction  of 
Roofs  Proper,  for  this  simple  reason,  that  no  person  without 
long  experience  can  tell  whether  a  roof  be  wisely  constructed 
Of  not ;  nor  tell  at  all,  even  with  help  of  any  amount  of  expe- 


THE  ROOF.  153 

rience,  without  examination  of  the  several  parts  and  bearing! 
of  it,  very  different  from  any  observation  possible  to  the  gen- 
eral critic  :  and  more  than  this,  the  enquiry  would  be  useless 
to  us  in  our  Venetian  studies,  where  the  roofs  are  either  not 
contemporary  with  the  buildings,  or  flat,  or  else  vaults  of  the 
simplest  possible  constructions,  which  have  been  admirably 
explained  by  Willis  in  his  "  Architecture  of  the  Middle  Ages," 
Chap.  VII.,  to  which  I  may  refer  the  reader  for  all  that  it  would 
be  well  for  him  to  know  respecting  the  connexion  of  the  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  vault  with  the  shafts.  He  would  also  do 
well  to  read  the  passages  on  Tudor  vaulting,  pp.  185-193,  in 
Mr.  Garbett's  rudimentary  Treatise  on  Design,  before  alluded 
to.*  I  shall  content  myself  therefore  with  noting  one  or  two 
points  on  which  neither  writer  has  had  occasion  to  touch,  re- 
specting the  Roof  Mask. 

§  m.  It  was  said  in  §  v.  of  Chapter  HI.  that  we  should 
not  have  occasion,  in  speaking  of  roof  construction,  to  add 
materially  to  the  forms  then  suggested.  The  forms  which 
we  have  to  add  are  only  those  resulting  from  the  other  curves 
)f  the  arch  developed  in  the  last  chapter  ;  that  is  to  say,  the 
various  eastern  domes  and  cupolas  arising  out  of  the  revolu- 
tion of  the  horseshoe  and  ogee  curves,  together  with  the  well- 
known  Chinese  concave  roof.  All  these  forms  are  of  course 
purely  decorative,  the  bulging  outline,  or  concave  surface, 
being  of  no  more  use,  or  rather  of  less,  in  throwing  off  snow 
or  rain,  than  the  ordinary  spire  and  gable  ;  and  it  is  rather 
curious,  therefore,  that  all  of  them,  on  a  small  scale,  should 
have  obtained  so  extensive  use  in  Germany  and  Switzerland, 
their  native  climate  being  that  of  the  east,  where  their  pur- 
pose seems  rather  to  concentrate  light  upon  their  orbed  sur- 
faces. I  much  doubt  their  applicability,  on  a  large  scale,  to 
architecture  of.  any  admirable  dignity  ;  their  chief  charm  is,  to 
the  European  eye,  that  of  strangeness ;  and  it  seems  to  me 
possible  that  in  the  east  the  bulging  form  may  be  also  de- 
lightful, from  the  idea  of  its  enclosing  a  volume  of  cool  air. 
I  enjoy  them  in  St.  Mark's,  chiefly  because  they  increase  the 
fantastic  and  unreal  character  of  St.  Mark's  Place  ;  and  be 
*  Appendix  17. 


154  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

cause  they  appear  to  sympathise  with  an  expression,  common 
I  think,  to  all  the  buildings  of  that  group,  of  a  natural  buoy- 
ancy, as  if  they  floated  in  the  air  or  on  the  surface  of  the  sea. 
But,  assuredly,  they  are  not  features  to  be  recommended  for 
imitation.* 

§  iv.  One  form,  closely  connected  with  the  Chinese  con- 
cave, is,  however,  often  constructively  right, — the  gable  with 
an  inward  angle,  occurring  with  exquisitely  picturesque  ef- 
fect throughout  the  domestic  architecture  of  the  north,  es- 
pecially Germany  and  Switzerland ;  the  lower  slope  being 

either  an  attached  external  pent- 
house roof,  for  protection  of  the 
wall,  as  in  Fig.  XXXVIL,  or  else  a 
kind  of  buttress  set  on  the  angle  of 
the  tower  ;  and  in  either  case  the 
roof  itself  being  a  simple  gable, 
continuous  beneath  it. 

§  v.  The  true  gable,  as  it  is  the 
simplest  and  most  natural,  so  I  es- 
teem it  the  grandest  of  roofs ; 
whether  rising  in  ridgy  darkness, 
like  a  grey  slope  of  slat#  mountains, 
over  the  precipitous  walls  of  the 
northern  cathedrals,  or  stretched  in 
burning  breadth  above  the  white 
FIO.  xxxv  11.  and  square-set  groups  of  the  south- 

ern architecture.  But  this  differ- 
ence between  its  slope  in  the  northern  and  southern  structure 
is  a  matter  of  far  greater  importance  than  is  commonly  sup- 
posed, and  it  is  this  to  which  I  would  especially  direct  the 
reader's  attention. 

§  vi.  One  main  cause  of  it,  the  necessity  of  throwing  off 

*  I  do  not  speak  of  the  true  dome,  because  I  have  not  studied  its  con- 
struction enough  to  know  at  what,  largeness  of  scale  it  begins  to  be  rather 
a  tour  tie  force  than  a  convenient  or  natural  form  of  roof,  and  because  the 
ordinary  spectator's  choice  amont:  its  various  outlines  must  always  be  de- 
pendent on  sesthetic  considerations  only,  andean  in  no  wise  bf  grounded! 
•a  any  conception  of  its  infinitely  complicated  structural  principled 


THE  ROOF.  .     156 

•now  in  the  north,  has  been  a  thousand  times  alluded  to: 
another  I  do  not  remember  having  seen  noticed,  namely,  that 
rooms  in  a  roof  are  comfortably  habitable  in  the  north,  which 
are  painful  sotto  piombi  in  Italy  ;  and  that  there  is  in  wet 
climates  a  natural  tendency  in  all  men  to  live  as  high  as  possi- 
ble, out  of  the  damp  and  mist.  These  two  causes,  together 
with  accessible  quantities  of  good  timber,  have  induced  in 
the  north  a  general  steep  pitch  of  gable,  which,  when  rounded 
or  squared  above  a  tower,  becomes  a  spire  or  turret ;  and  tbis 
feature,  worked  out  with  elaborate  decoration,  is  the  key-note 
of  the  whole  system  of  aspiration,  so  called,  which  the  Ger- 
man critics  have  so  ingeniously  and  falsely  ascribed  to  a  de- 
votional sentiment  pervading  the  Northern  Gothic  :  I  entirely 
and  boldly  deny  the  whole  theory ;  our  cathedrals  were  for 
the  most  part  built  by  worldly  people,  who  loved  the  world, 
and  would  have  gladly  staid  in  it  for  ever  ;  whose  best  hope 
was  the  escaping  hell,  which  they  thought  to  do  by  building 
cathedrals,  but  who  had  very  vague  conceptions  of  Heaven  in 
general,  and  very  feeble  desires  respecting  their  entrance 
therein  ;  and  the  form  of  the  spired  cathedral  has  no  more 
intentional  reference  to  Heaven,  as  distinguished  from  the 
flattened  slope  of  the  Greek  pediment,  than  the  steep  gable 
of  a  Norman  house  has,  as  distinguished  from  the  flat  roof  of 
a  Syrian  one.  We  may  now,  with  ingenious  pleasure,  trace 
such  symbolic  characters  in  the  form  ;  we  may  now  use  it 
with  such  definite  meaning  ;  but  we  only  prevent  ourselves 
from  all  right  understanding  of  history,  by  attributing  much 
influence  to  these  poetical  symbolisms  in  the  formation  of  a 
national  style.  The  human  race  are,  for  the  most  part,  not 
to  be  moved  by  such  silken  cords  ;  and  the  chances  of  damp 
in  the  cellar,  or  of  loose  tiles  in  the  roof,  have,  unhappily, 
much  more  to  do  with  the  fashions  of  a  man's  house  building 
than  his  ideas  of  celestial  happiness  or  angelic  virtue.  Associ- 
ations of  affection  have  far  higher  power,  and  forms  which 
can  be  no  otherwise  accounted  for  may  often  be  explained  by 
reference  to  the  natural  features  of  the  country,  or  to  any- 
thing which  habit  must  have  rendered  familiar,  and  therefore 
delightful ;  but  the  direct  symbolisation  of  a  sentiment  is  a 


156  THE  STONES  OP    VENICE. 

weak  motive  with  all  men,  and  far  more  so  in  the  practical 
minds  of  the  north  than  among  the  early  Christians,  who 
were  assuredly  quite  as  heavenly-minded,  when  they  built 
basilicas,  or  cut  conchas  out  of  the  catacombs,  as  were  ever 
the  Norman  barons  or  monks. 

§  vn.  There  is,  however,  in  the  north  an  animal  activity 
which  materially  aided  the  system  of  building  begun  in  mere 
utility, — an  animal  life,  naturally  expressed  in  erect  work,  as 
the  languor  of  the  south  in  reclining  or  level  work.  Imagine 
the  difference  between  the  action  of  a  man  urging  himself  to 
his  work  in  a  snow  storm,  and  the  inaction  of  one  laid  at  his 
length  on  a  sunny  bank  among  cicadas  and  fallen  olives,  and 
you  will  have  the  key  to  a  whole  group  of  sympathies  which 
were  forcefully  expressed  in  the  architecture  of  both ;  remem- 
bering always  that  sleep  would  be  to  the  one  luxury,  to  the 
other  death. 

§  vm.  And  to  the  force  of  this  vital  instinct  we  have  farther 
to  add  the  influence  of  natural  scenery  ;  and  chiefly  of  the 
groups  and  wildernesses  of  the  tree  which  is  to  the  German 
mind  what  the  olive  or  palm  is  to  the  southern,  the  spruce  fir. 
The  eye  which  has  once  been  habituated  to  the  continual  ser- 
ration of  the  pine  forest,  and  to  the  multiplication  of  its  infi- 
nite pinnacles,  is  not  easily  offended  by  the  repetition  of  simi- 
lar forms,  nor  easily  satisfied  by  the  simplicity  of  flat  or 
massive  outlines.  Add  to  the  influence  of  the  pine,  that  of 
the  poplar,  more  especially  in  the  valleys  of  France ;  but  think 
of  the  spruce  chiefly,  and  meditate  on  the  difference  of  feeling 
with  which  the  Northman  would  be  inspired  by  the  frost-work 
wreathed  upon  its  glittering  point,  and  the  Italian  by  the  dark 
green  depth  of  sunshine  on  the  broad  table  of  the  stone-pine  * 
(and  consider  by  the  way  whether  the  spruce  fir  be  a  more 

*  I  shall  not  be  thought  to  have  overrated  the  effect  of  forest  scenery 
on  the  northern  mind  ;  but  I  was  glad  to  hear  a  Spanish  gentleman,  the 
other  day,  describing,  together  with  his  own,  the  regret  which  the  peas- 
ants in  his  neighborhood  had  testified  for  the  loss  of  a  noble  stone-pine, 
one  of  the  grandest  in  Spain,  which  its  proprietor  had  suffered  to  be  cut 
down  for  small  gain.  He  said  that  the  mere  spot  where  it  had  grown 
was  still  popularly  known  as  "  El  Pino." 


TEE  ROOF.  151 

heavenly-mincled  tree  than  those  dark  canopies  of  the  Medi- 
terranean isles). 

§  ix.  Circumstance  and  sentiment,  therefore,  aiding  each 
other,  the  steep  roof  becomes  generally  adopted,  and  delighted 
in,  throughout  the  north  ;  and  then,  with  the  gradual  exag- 
geration with  which  every  pleasant  idea  is  pursued  by  the 
human  mind,  it  is  raised  into  all  manner  of  peaks,  and  points, 
and  ridges  ;  and  pinnacle  after  pinnacle  is  added  on  its  flanks, 
and  the  walls  increased  in  height,  in  proportion,  until  we  gel 
indeed  a  very  sublime  mass,  but  one  which  has  no  more  prin- 
ciple of  religious  aspiration  in  it  than  a  child's  tower  of  cards. 
What  is  more,  the  desire  to  build  high  is  complicated  with  the 
peculiar  love  of  the  grotesque  *  which  is  characteristic  of  the 
north,  together  with  especial  delight  in  multiplication  of  small 
forms  as  well  as  in  exaggerated  points  of  shade  and  energy, 
and  a  certain  degree  of  consequent  insensibility  to  perfect 
grace  and  quiet  truthfulness ;  so  that  a  northern  architect 
could  not  feel  the  beauty  of  the  Elgin  marbles,  and  there  will 
always  bo  (in  those  who  have  devoted  themselves  to  this  par- 
ticular school)  a  certain  incapacity  to  taste  the  finer  characters 
of  Greek  art,  or  to  understand  Titian,  Tintoret,  or  Raphael : 
whereas  among  the  Italian  Gothic  workmen,  this  capacity  was 
never  lost,  and  Nino  Pisano  and  Orcagna  could  have  under- 
stood the  Theseus  in  an  instant,  and  would  have  received  from  it 
new  life.  There  can  be  no  question  that  theirs  was  the  great- 
est school,  and  carried  out  by  the  greatest  men  ;  and  that 
while  those  who  began  with  this  school  could  perfectly  well 
feel  Rouen  Cathedral,  those  who  study  the  Northern  Gothic 
remain  in  a  narrowed  field — one  of  small  pinnacles,  and  dots, 
and  crockets,  and  twitched  faces — and  cannot  comprehend  the 
meaning  of  a  broad  surface  or  a  grand  line.  Nevertheless  the 
northern  school  is  an  admirable  and  delightful  thing,  but  a 
lower  thing  than  the  southern.  The  Gothic  of  the  Ducal 
Palace  of  Venice  is  in  harmony  with  all  that  is  grand  in  all 
the  world  :  that  of  the  north  is  in  harmony  with  the  grotesque 
northern  spirit  only. 

§  x.  We  are,  however,  beginning  to  lose  sight  of  our  roof 
*  Appendix  8. 


158  THE  STONES  OP  VENICE. 

structure  in  its  spirit,  and  must  return  to  our  text.  As  the 
height  of  the  walls  increased,  in  sympathy  with  the  rise  of  the 
roof,  while  their  thickness  remained  the  same,  it  became  more 
and  more  necessary  to  support  them  by  buttresses  ;  but — and 
this  is  another  point  that  the  reader  must  specially  note — it  is 
not  the  steep  roof  mask  which  requires  the  buttress,  but  the 
vaulting  beneath  it ;  the  roof  mask  being  a  mere  wooden 
frame  tied  together  by  cross  timbers,  and  in  small  buildings 
often  put  together  on  the  ground,  raised  afterwards,  and  set 
on  the  walls  like  a  hat,  bearing  vertically  upon  them  ;  and 
farther,  I  believe  in  most  cases  the  northern  vaulting  requires 
its  great  array  of  external  buttress,  not  so  much  from  any 
peculiar  boldness  in  its  own  forms,  as  from  the  greater  com- 
parative thinness  and  height  of  the  walls,  and  more  deter- 
mined throwing  of  the  whole  weight  of  the  roof  on  particular 
points.  Now  the  connexion  of  the  interior  frame-work  (or 
true  roof)  with  the  buttress,  at  such  points,  is  not  visible  to 
the  spectators  from  without ;  but  the  relation  of  the  roof  mask 
to  the  top  of  the  wall  which  it  protects,  or  from  which  it 
springs,  is  perfectly  visible  ;  and  it  is  a  point  of  so  great  im- 
portance in  the  effect  of  the  building,  that  it  will  be  well  to 
make  it  a  subject  of  distinct  consideration  in  the  following 
Chapter. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE     BOOF     CORNICE. 

§  L  IT  will  be  remembered  that  in  the  Sixth  Chapter  we 
paused  (§  x.)  at  the  point  where  the  addition  of  brackets  to 
the  ordinary  wall  cornice  would  have  converted  it  into  a 
structure  proper  for  sustaining  a  roof.  Now  the  wall  cornice 
was  treated  throughout  our  enquiry  (compare  Chapter  VH 
§  v. )  as  the  capital  of  the  wall,  and  as  forming,  by  its  concen- 
tration, the  capital  of  the  shaft.  But  we  must  not  reason 
back  from  the  capital  to  the  cornice,  and  suppose  that  an  ex- 
tension of  the  principles  of  the  capital  to  the  whole  length  of 
the  wall,  will  serve  for  the  roof  cornice ;  for  all  our  concli* 


TEE  ROOF  COHNIOE.  159 

respecting  the  capital  were  based  on  the  supposition  of 
its  being  adapted  to  carry  considerable  weight  condensed  on 
its  abacus :  but  the  roof  cornice  is,  in  most  cases,  required 
rather  to  project  boldly  than  to  carry  weight ;  and  arrange- 
ments are  therefore  to  be  adopted  for  it  which  will  secure  the 
projection  of  large  surfaces  without  being  calcinated  to  resist 
extraordinary  pressure.  This  object  is  obtain-  d  by  the  use 
of  brackets  at  intervals,  which  are  the  peculiar  distinction  of 
the  roof  cornice. 

55  n.  Roof  cornices  are  generally  to  be  divided  into  two 
great  families  :  the  first  and  simplest,  those  which  are  com- 
posed merely  by  the  projection  of  the  edge  of  the  roof  mask 
over  the  wall,  sustained  by  such  brackets  or  spurs  as  may  be 
necessary  ;  the  second,  those  which  provide  a  \r*lk  round  the 
edge  of  the  roof,  and  which  require,  therefore,  some  stronger 
support,  as  well  as  a  considerable  mass  of  building  above  or 
beside  the  roof  mask,  and  a  parapet.  These  two  families  we 
shall  consider  in  succession. 

§  in.  1.  The  Eaved  Cornice.  We  may  give  it  this  name, 
as  represented  in  the  simplest  form  by  cottage  eaves.  It  is 
used,  however,  in  bold  projection,  both  in  north,  and  south, 
and  east ;  its  use  being,  in  the  north,  to  throw  the  rain  well 
away  from  the  wall  of  the  building  ;  in  the  south  to  give  it 
shade ;  and  it  is  ordinarily  constructed  of  the  ends  of  the 
timbers  of  the  roof  mask  (with  their  tiles  or  shingles  con- 
tinued to  the  edge  of  the  cornice),  and  sustained  by  spurs  of 
timber.  This  is  its  most  picturesque  and  natural  form  ;  not 
inconsistent  with  great  splendor  of  architecture  in  the  mediae- 
val Italian  domestic  buildings,  superb  in  its  mass  of  cast 
shadow,  and  giving  rich  effect  to  the  streets  of  Swiss  'towns, 
even  when  they  have  no  other  claim  to  interest.  A  farther 
value  is  given  to  it  by  its  waterspouts,  for  in  order  to  avoid 
loading  it  with  weight  of  water  in  the  gutter  at  the  edge, 
where  it  would  be  a  strain  on  the  fastenings  of  the  pipe,  it 
has  spouta  of  discharge  at  intervals  of  three  or  four  feet, — 
rows  of  magnificent  leaden  or  iron  dragons'  heads,  full  of  de- 
lightful character,  except  to  any  person ,  passing  along  the 
middle  of  the  street  in  a  heavy  shower.  I  have  had  my  share 


160  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

of  their  kindness  in  my  time,  but  owe  them  no  grudge ;  ot 
the  contrary,  much  gratitude  for  the  delight  of  their  fantastic 
outline  on  the  calm  blue  sky,  when  they  had  no  work  to  do 
but  to  open  their  iron  mouths  and  pant  in  the  sunshine. 

§  iv.  When,  however,  light  is  more  Valuable  than  shadow, 
or  when  the  architecture  of  the  wail  is  too  fair  to  be  con- 
cealed, it  becomes  necessary  to  draw  the  cornice  into  nar- 
rower limits  ;  a  change  of  considerable  importance,  in  that  it 
permits  the  gutter,  instead  of  being  of  lead  and  hung  to  the 
edge  of  the  cornice,  to  be  of  stone,  and  supported  by  brackets 
in  the  wall,  these  brackets  becoming  proper  recipients  of  after 
decoration  (and  sometimes  associated  with  the  stone  channels 
of  discharge,  called  gargoyles,  which  be  ,ong,  however,  more 
properly  to  the  other  family  of  cornices).  The  most  perfect 
and  beautiful  example  of  this  kind  of  cor»  ice  is  the  Venetian, 
in  which  the  rain  from  the  tiles  is  received  in  a  stone  gutter 
supported  by  small  brackets,  delicately  u.oulded,  and  having 
its  outer  lower  edge  decorated  with  the  English  dogtooth 
moulding,  whose  sharp  zigzag  mingles  richly  with  tho  curved 
edges  of  the  tiling.  I  know  no  cornice  more  beautiful  in  its 
extreme  simplicity  and  serviceableness. 

§  v.  The  cornice  of  the  Greek  Doric  is  a  condition  of  the 
same  kind,  in  which,  however,  there  are  no  brackets,  but  use- 
less appendages  hung  to  the  bottom  of  the  gutter  (giving, 
however,  some  impression  of  support  as  seen  from  a  distance), 
and  decorated  with  stone  symbolisms  of  raindrops.  The 
brackets  are  not  allowed,  because  they  would  interfere  with 
the  sculpture,  which  in  this  architecture  is  put  beneath  the 
cornice  ;  and  the  overhanging  form  of  the  gutter  is  nothing 
more  than  a  vast  dripstone  moulding,  to  keep  the  rain  from 
such  sculpture  :  its  decoration  of  guttse,  seen  in  silver  points 
against  the  shadow,  is  pretty  in  feeling,  with  a  kind  of  con- 
tinual refreshment  and  remembrance  of  rain  in  it ;  but  the 
whole  arrangement  is  awkward  and  meagre,  and  is  only  en- 
durable when  the  eye  is  quickly  drawn  away  from  it  to  sculp- 
ture. 

§  vi.  In  later  cornices,  invented  for  the  Greek  orders,  and 
farther  developed  by  the  Romans,  the  bracket  appears  in  true 


THE  ROOF  CORNICE.  161 

importance,  though  of  barbarous  and  effeminate  outline  :  and 
gorgeous  decorations  are  applied  to  it,  and  to  the  various 
horizontal  mouldings  which  it  carries,  some  of  them  of  great 
beauty,  and  of  the  highest  value  to  the  mediaeval  architects 
who  imitated  them.  But  a  singularly  gross  mistake  was  made 
in  the  distribution  of  decoration  on  these  rich  cornices  (I  do 
not  know  when  first,  nor  does  it  matter  to  me  or  to  the 
reader),  namely,  the  charging  with  ornament  the  under  sur- 
face of  the  cornice  between  the  brackets,  that  is  to  say,  the 
exact  piece  of  the  whole  edifice,  from  top  to  bottom,  where 
ornament  is  least  visible.  I  need  hardly  say  much  respecting 
the  wisdom  of  this  procedure,  excusable  only  if  the  whole 
building  were  covered  with  ornament;  but  it  is  curious  to 
see  the  way  in  which  modern  architects  have  copied  it,  even 
when  they  had  little  enough  ornament  to  spare.  For  in- 
stance, I  suppose  few  persons  look  ab  the  Athenaeum  Club- 
house without  feeling  vexed  at  the  meagreness  and  meanness 
of  the  windows  of  the  ground  floor :  if,  however,  they  look 
up  under  the  cornice,  and  have  good  eyes,  they  will  perceive 
that  the  architect  has  reserved  his  decorations  to  put  between 
the  brackets ;  and  by  going  up  to  the  first  floor,  and  out  on 
the  gallery,  they  may  succeed  in  obtaining  some  glimpses  of 
the  designs  of  the  said  decorations. 

§  vn.  Such  as  they  are,  or  were,  these  cornices  were  soon 
considered  essential  parts  of  the  "  order  "  to  which  they  be- 
longed ;  and  the  same  wisdom  which  endeavored  to  fix  the 
proportions  of  the  orders,  appointed  also  that  no  order  should 
go  without  its  cornice.  The  reader  has  probably  heard  of  the 
architectural  division  of  superstructure  into  architrave,  frieze, 
and  cornice ;  parts  which  have  been  appointed  by  great  archi- 
tects to  all  their  work,  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  great  rheto- 
ricians have  ordained  that  every  speech  shall  have  an  exor- 
dium, and  narration,  and  peroration.  The  reader  will  do 
well  to  consider  that  it  may  be  sometimes  just  as  possible  to 
carry  a  roof,  and  get  rid  of  rain,  without  such  an  arrange- 
ment, as  it  is  to  tell  a  plain  fact  without  an  exordium  or  per- 
oration; but  he  must  very  absolutely  consider  that  the 
architectural  peroration  or  cornice  is  strictly  and  sternly 
VOL.  I.  — 11 


162  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

limited  to  the  end  of  the  wall's  speech, — that  is,  to  the  edga 
of  the  roof ;  and  that  it  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  shafts 
nor  the  orders  of  them.  And  he  will  then  be  able  fully  to 
enjoy  the  farther  ordinance  of  the  late  Roman  and  Renais- 
sance architects,  who,  attaching  it  to  the  shaft  as  if  it  were 
part  of  its  shadow,  and  having  to  employ  their  shafts  often  in 
places  where  they  came  not  near  the  roof,  forthwith  cut  the  roof- 
cornice  to  pieces  and  attached  a  bit  of  it  to  every  column ; 
thenceforward  to  be  carried  by  the  unhappy  shaft  wherever  it 
went,  in  addition  to  any  other  work  on  which  it  might  happen 
to  be  employed.  I  do  not  recollect  among  any  living  beings, 
except  Renaissance  architects,  any  instance  of  a  parallel  or 
comparable  stupidity  :  but  one  can  imagine  a  savage  getting 
hold  of  a  piece  of  one  of  our  iron  wire  ropes,  with  its  rings 
upon  it  at  intervals  to  bind  it  together,  and  pulling  the  wires 
asunder  to  apply  them  to  separate  purposes ;  but  imagining 
there  was  magic  in  the  ring  that  bound  them,  and  so  cutting 
that  to  pieces  also,  and  fastening  a  little  bit  of  it  to  every 
wire. 

§  vm.  Thus  much  may  serve  us  to  know  respecting  the  first 
family  of  wall  cornices.  The  second  is  immeasurably  rnoro 
important,  and  includes  the  cornices  of  all  the  best  buildings 
in  the  world.  It  has  derived  its  best  form  from  mediaeval 
military  architecture,  which  imperatively  required  two  things ; 
first,  a  parapet  which  should  permit  sight  and  offence,  and  af- 
ford defence  at  the  same  time  ;  and  secondly,  a  projection  bold 
enough  to  enable  the  defenders  to  rake  the  bottom  of  the  wall 
with  falling  bodies  ;  projection  which,  if  the  wall  happened  to 
slope  inwards,  required  not  to  be  small  The  thoroughly 
magnificent  forms  of  cornice  thus  developed  by  necessity  in 
military  buildings,  were  adopted,  with  more  or  less  of  bold- 
ness or  distinctness,  in  domestic  architecture,  according  to 
the  temper  of  the  times  and  the  circumstances  of  the  indi- 
vidual— decisively  in  the  baron's  house,  imperfectly  in  the 
burgher's  :  gradually  they  found  their  way  into  ecclesiastical 
architecture,  under  wise  modifications  in  the  early  cathedrals, 
with  infinite  absurdity  in  the  imitations  of  them  ;  diminish- 
ing in  size  as  their  original  purpose  sank  into  a  decorative 


THE  ROOF   CORNICE.  163 

one,    until    we    find    battlements,   two-and-a-quarter    inches 
square,  decorating  the  gates  of  the  Philanthropic  Society. 

§  rx.  There  are,  therefore,  two  distinct  features  in  all  cor- 
nices of  this  kind  :  first,  the  bracket,  now  become  of  enormous 
importance  and  of  most  serious  practical  service  ;  the  second, 
the  parapet :  and  these  two  features  we  shall  consider  in  suc- 
cession, and  in  so  doing,  shall  learn  all  that  is  needful  for  us 
to  know,  not  only  respecting  cornices,  but  respecting  brackets 
in  general,  and  balconies. 

§  x.  1.  The  Bracket.  In  the  simplest  form  of  military  cor- 
nice, the  brackets  are  composed  of  two  or  more  long  stones, 
supporting  each  other  in  gradually  in- 
creasing projection,  with  roughly  rounded 
ends,  Fig.  XXXVUL,  and  the  parapet  is 
simply  a  low  wall  carried  on  the  ends  of 
these,  leaving,  of  course,  behind,  or  within 
it,  a  hole  between  each  bracket  for  the 
convenient  dejection  of  hot  sand  and  lead. 
This  form  is  best  seen,  I  think,  in  the  old 
Scotch  castles ;  it  is  very  grand,  but  has 
a  giddy  look,  and  one  is  afraid  of  the 
whole  thing  toppling  off  the  wall.  The 

j.       3  j/i        i          i     j  FIG-  XXXTIII. 

next  step  was  to  deepen  the  brackets,  so 
as  to  get  them  propped  against  a  great  depth  of  the  main 
rampart,  and  to  have  the  inner  ends  of  the  stones  held  by 
a  greater  weight  of  that  main  wall  above  ;  while  small  arches 
were  thrown  from  bracket  to  bracket  to  carry  the  par- 
apet wall  more  securely.  This  is  the  most  perfect  form  of 
cornice,  completely  satisfying  the  eye  of  its  security,  giving 
full  protection  to  the  wall,  and  applicable  to  all  architecture, 
the  interstices  between  the  brackets  being  filled  up,  when  one 
does  not  want  to  throw  boiling  lead  on  any  body  below,  and 
the  projection  being  always  delightful,  as  giving  greater  com- 
mand and  view  of  the  building,  from  its  angles,  to  those  walk- 
ing on  the  rampart.  And  as,  in  military  buildings,  there  were 
usually  towers  at  the  angles  (round  which  the  battlements 
swept)  in  order  to  flank  the  walls,  so  often  in  the  translation 
into  civil  or  ecclesiastical  architecture,  a,  small  turret  remained 
Stones  of  Venice — VoL  L— •£ 


164 


THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 


at  the  angle,  or  a  more  bold  projection  of  balcony,  to  give 
larger  prospect  to  those  upon  the  rampart.  This  cornice, 
perfect  in  all  its  parts,  as  arranged  for  ecclesiastical  architec- 
ture, and  exquisitely  decorated,  is  the  one  employed  in  the 
duomo  of  Florence  and  campanile  of  Giotto,  of  which  I  have 
already  spoken  as,  I  suppose,  the  most  perfect  architecture  in 
the  world. 

§  xi.  In  less  important  positions  and  on  smaller  edifices, 
this  cornice  diminishes  in  size,  while  it  retains  its  arrange- 
ment, and  at  last  we  find  nothing  but  the  spirit  and  form  of  it 
left;  the  real  practical  purpose  having  ceased,  and  arch, 
brackets  and  all,  being  cut  out  of  a  single  stone.  Thus  we 
find  it  used  in  early  buildings  throughout  the 
whole  of  the  north  and  south  of  Europe,  in 
forms  sufficiently  represented  by  the  two  ex- 
amples in  Plate  IV. :  1,  from  St.  Antonio,  Padua  ; 
2,  from  Sens,  in  France. 

§  xn.  I  wish,  however,  at  present  to  fix  the 
reader's  attention  on  the  form  of  the  bracket  it- 
self ;  a  most  important  feature  in  modern  as  well 
as  ancient  architecture.  The  first  idea  of  a 
bracket  is  that  of  a  long  stone  or  piece  of  timber 
projecting  from  the  wall,  as  a,  Fig.  XXXIX.,  of 
which  the  strength  depends  on  the  toughness 
of  the  stone  or  wood,  and  the  stability  on  the 
weight  of  the  wall  above  it  (unless  it  be  the  end 
of  a  main  beam).  But  let  it  be  supposed  that 
the  structure  at  a,  being  of  the  required  pro- 
jection, is  found  too  weak :  then  we  may 
strengthen  it  in  one  of  three  ways  ;  (1)  by  put- 
ting a  second  or  third  stone  beneath  it,  as  at  6  / 
(2)  by  giving  it  a  spur,  as  at  c ;  (3)  by  giving  it 
a  shaft  and  another  bracket  below,  d  ;  the  great 
use  of  this  arrangement  being  that  the  lowermost  bracket  has 
the  help  of  the  weight  of  the  shaft  length  of  wall  above  its  in- 
sertion, which  is,  of  course,  greater  than  the  weight  of  the  small 
shaft :  and  then  the  lower  bracket  may  be  farther  helped  by 
the  structure  at  6  or  c. 


xxxix. 


THE  ROOF  CORNICE.  165 

§  xm.  Of  these  structures,  a  and  c  are  evidently  adapted 
especially  for  wooden   buildings ;   b  and  d  for   stone   ones ; 
the   last,    of  course,   susceptible   of  the   richest  decoration, 
and   superbly  employed  in  the  cornice  of  the  cathedral  of 
Monza  :  but  all  are  beautiful  in  their  way,  and  are 
the  means  of,  I  think,  nearly  half  the  picturesque-    ff^~       I 
ness  and  power  of  mediaeval  building  ;  the  forms  b 
and  c  being,  of  course,  the  most  frequent ;  a,  when    *  ^T 
it  occurs,  being  usually  rounded  off,  as  at  a,  Fig.  \J 

XL. ;  b,  also,  as  in  Fig.  XXXVm,  or  else  itself 
composed  of  a  single  stone  cut  into  the  form  of  the 
group  b  here,  Fig.  XL.,  or  plain,  as  at  c,  which  is 
also  the  proper  form  of  the  brick  bracket,  when  stone 
is  not  to  be  had.  The  reader  will  at  once  perceive  d  C^~  j 
that  the  form  d  is  a  barbarism  (unless  when  the  \  I 

scale  is  small  and  the  weight  to  be  carried  exceed-  u 

ingly  light) :  it  is  of  course,  therefore,  a  favorite  form     Flo-  XI" 
with  the  Renaissance  architects ;  and  its  introduction  is  one 
of  the  first  corruptions  of  the  Venetian  architecture. 

§  xrv.  There  is  one  point  necessary  to  be  noticed,  though 
bearing  on  decoration  more  than  construction,  before  we  leave 
the  subject  of  the  bracket  The  whole  power  of  the  con- 
struction depends  upon  the  stones  being  well  lei  into  the 
wall ;  and  the  first  function  of  the  decoration  should  be 
to  give  the  idea  of  this  insertion,  if  possible  ;  at  all 
events,  not  to  contradict  this  idea.  If  the  reader 
will  glance  at  any  of  the  brackets  used  in  the  ordi- 
nary architecture  of  London,  he  will  find  them  of 
some  such  character  as  Fig.  XLL  ;  not  a  bad  form 
in  itself,  but  exquisitely  absurd  in  its  curling  lines, 
which  give  the  idea  of  some  writhing  suspended 
instead  of  a  stiff  support,  and  by  their  careful 
avoidance  of  the  wall  make  the  bracket  look  pinned  on.  and 
in  constant  danger  of  sliding  down.  This  is,  also,  a  Classical 
and  Renaissance  decoration. 

§  xv.  2.  The  Parapet.  Its  forms  are  fixed  in  military 
architecture  by  the  necessities  of  the  art  of  war  at  the  time 
of  building,  and  are  always  beautiful  wherever  they  have  been 


166  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

really  thus  fixed  ;  delightful  in  the  variety  of  their  setting,  and 
in  the  quaint  darkness  of  their  shot-holes,  and  fantastic  changes 
of  elevation  and  outline.  Nothing  is  more  remarkable  than 
the  swiftly  discerned  difference  between  the  masculine  irregu- 
larity of  such  true  battlements,  and  the  formal  pitifulness  of 
those  which  are  set  on  modern  buildings  to  give  them  a  mili- 
tary air, — as  on  the  jail  at  Edinburgh. 

§  xvi.  Respecting  the  Parapet  for  mere  safeguard  upon 
buildings  not  military,  there  are  just  two  fixed  laws.  It  should 
be  pierced,  otherwise  it  is  not  recognised  from  below  for  a 
parapet  at  all,  and  it  should  not  be  in  the  form  of  a  battle- 
ment, especially  in  church  architecture. 

The  most  comfortable  heading  of  a  true  parapet  is  a  plain 
level  on  which  the  arm  can  be  rested,  and  along  which  it  can 
glide.  Any  jags  or  elevations  are  disagreeable  ;  the  latter,  as 
interrupting  the  view  and  disturbing  the  eye,  if  they  are 
higher  than  the  arm,  the  former,  as  opening  some  aspect  of 
danger  if  they  are  much  lower  ;  and  the  inconvenience,  there- 
fore, of  the  battlemented  form,  as  well  as  the  worse  than  ab- 
surdity, the  bad  feeling,  of  the  appliance  of  a  military  feature 
to  a  church,  ought  long  ago  to  have  determined  its  rejection. 
Still  (for  the  question  of  its  picturesque  value  is  here  so 
closely  connected  with  that  of  its  practical  use,  that  it  is  vain 
to  endeavor  to  discuss  it  separately)  there  is  a  certain  agree- 
ableness  in  the  way  in  which  the  jagged  outline  dovetails  the 
shadow  of  the  slated  or  leaded  roof  into  the  top  of  the  wall, 
which  may  make  the  use  of  the  battlement  excusable  w,here 
there  is  a  difficulty  in  managing  some  unvaried  line,  and 
where  the  expense  of  a  pierced  parapet  cannot  be  encoun- 
tered :  but  remember  always,  that  the  value  of  the  battlement 
consists  in  its  letting  shadow  into  the  light  of  the  wall,  or 
vice  versd,  when  it  comes  against  light  sky,  letting  the  light 
of  the  sky  into  the  shade  of  the  wall ;  but  that  the  actual  out- 
line of  the  parapet  itself,  if  the  eye  be  arrested  upon  this, 
instead  of  upon  the  alternation  of  shadow,  is  as  ugly  a  suc- 
cession of  line  as  can  by  any  possibility  be  invented.  There- 
fore, the  battlemented  parapet  may  only  be  used  where  this 
alternation  of  shade  is  certain  to  be  shown,  under  nearly  ail 


THE  ROOF  CORNICE.  167 

conditions  of  effect ;  and  where  the  lines  to  be  dealt  with  are 
on  a  scale  which  may  admit  battlements  of  bold  and  manly 
size.  The  idea  that  a  battlement  is  an  ornament  anywhere, 
and  that  a  miserable  and  diminutive  imitation  of  castellated 
outline  will  always  serve  to  fill  up  blanks  and  Gothicise  un- 
manageable spaces,  is  one  of  the  great  idiocies  of  the  present 
day.  A  battlement  is  in  its  origin  a  piece  of  wall  large 
enough  to  cover  a  man's  body,  and  however  it  may  be  deco- 
rated, or  pierced,  or  finessed  away  into  traceries,  as  long  as 
so  much  of  its  outline  is  retained  as  to  suggest  its  origin,  so 
long  its  size  must  remain  undiminished.  To  crown  a  turret 
six  feet  high  with  chopped  battlements  three  inches  wide,  is 
children's  Gothic :  it  is  one  of  the  paltry  falsehoods  for  which 
there  is  no  excuse,  and  part  of  the  system  of  using  models  of 
architecture  to  decorate  architecture,  which  we  shall  hereafter 
note  as  one  of  the  chief  and  most  destructive  follies  of  the 
Renaissance ;  *  and  in  the  present  day  the  practice  may  be 
classed  as  one  which  distinguishes  the  architects  of  whom 
there  is  no  hope,  who  have  neither  eye  nor  head  for  their 
work,  and  who  must  pass  their  lives  in  >ain  struggles  against 
the  refractory  lines  of  their  own  buildings. 

§  xvn.  As  the  only  excuse  for  the  battlemented  parapet  is 
its  alternation  of  shadow,  so  the  only  fault  of  the  natural  or 
level  parapet  is  its  monotony  of  line.  This  is,  however,  in 
practice,  almost  always  broken  by  the  pinnacles  of  the  but- 
tresses, and  if  not,  may  be  varied  by  the  tracery  of  its  pene- 
trations. The  forms  of  these  evidently  admit  every  kind  of 
change  ;  for  a  stone  parapet,  however  pierced,  is  sure  to  be 
strong  enough  for  its  purpose  of  protection,  and,  as  regards 

*  Not  of  Renaissance  alone  :  the  practice  of  modelling  buildings  on  a 
minute  scale  for  niches  and  tabernacle- work  has  always  been  more  or 
less  admitted,  and  I  suppose  authority  for  diminutive  battlements  might 
be  gathered  from  the  Gothic  of  almost  every  period,  as  well  as  for  many 
other  faults  and  mistakes:  no  Gothic  school  having  ever  been  thor- 
oughly systematised  or  perfected,  even  in  its  best  times.  But  that  a 
mistaken  decoration  sometimes  occurs  among  a  crowd  of  noble  ones,  is 
no  more  an  excuse  for  the  habitual — far  less,  the  exclusive — use  of 
such  a  decoration,  than  the  accidental  or  seeming  misconstructions  of  a 
6re«k  chorus  are  an  excuse  i'or  a  school  boy's  ungrammatioal  cxerciM. 


168  THE  STONES  OP  VENICE. 

the  strength  of  the  building  in  general,  the  lighter  it  is  th< 
better.  More  fantastic  forms  may,  therefore,  be  admitted  in 
a  parapet  than  in  any  other  architectural  feature,  and  for  most 
services,  the  Flamboyant  parapets  seem  to  me  preferable  to 
all  others  ;  especially  when  the  leaden  roofs  set  off  by  points 
of  darkness  the  lace-like  intricacy  of  penetration.  These, 
however,  as  well  as  the  forms  usually  given  to  Renaissance 
balustrades  (of  which,  by  the  bye,  the  best  piece  of  criticism 
I  know  is  the  sketch  in  "David  Copperfield  "  of  the  personal 
appearance  of  the  man  who  stole  Jip),  and  the  other  and 
finer  forms  invented  by  Paul  Veronese  in  his  architectural 
backgrounds,  together  with  the  pure  columnar  balustrade  of 
Venice,  must  be  considered  as  altogether  decorative  features. 

§  xvm.  So  also  are,  of  course,  the  jagged  or  crown-like 
finishings  of  walls  employed  where  no  real  parapet  of  protec- 
tion is  desired  ;  originating  in  the  defences  of  outworks  and 
single  walls  :  these  are  used  much  in  the  east  on  walls  sur- 
rounding unroofed  courts.  The  richest  examples  of  such 
decoration  are  Arabian  ;  and  from  Cairo  they  seem  to  have 
been  brought  to  Venice.  It  is  probable  that  few  of  my 
readers,  however  familiar  the  general  form  of 'the  Ducal 
Palace  may  have  been  rendered  to  them  by  innumerable  draw- 
ings, have  any  distinct  idea  of  its  roof,  owing  to  the  staying 
of  the  eye  on  its  superb  parapet,  of  which  we  shall  give  ac- 
count hereafter.  In  most  of  the  Venetian  cases  the  parapets 
which  surround  roofing  are  very  sufficient  for  protection,  ex- 
cept that  the  stones  of  which  they  are  composed  appear  loose 
and  infirm  :  but  their  purpose  is  entirely  decorative  ;  every 
wall,  whether  detached  or  roofed,  being  indiscriminately 
fringed  with  Arabic  forms  of  parapet,  more  or  less  Gothi- 
cised,  according  to  the  lateness  of  their  date. 

I  think  there  is  no  other  point  of  importance  requiring  il- 
lustration respecting  the  roof  itself,  or  its  cornice :  but  this 
Venetian  form  of  ornamental  parapet  connects  itself  curiously, 
at  the  angles  of  nearly  all  the  buildings  on  which  it  occurs, 
with  the  pinnacled  system  of  the  north,  founded  on  the  struct, 
ure  of  the  buttress.  This,  it  will  be  remembered,  is  to  be 
th«  tubject  of  the  fifth  division  of  our  inquiry. 


'1UE  BUTTRESS  169 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE   BUTTRESS. 

§  i.  WE  have  hitherto  supposed  ourselves  concerned  with 
the  support  of  vertical  pressure  only  ;  and  the  arch  and  roof 
have  been  considered  as  forms  of  abstract  strength,  without 
reference  to  the  means  by  which  their  lateral  pressure  was  to 
be  resisted.  Few  readers  will  need  now  to  be  reminded,  that 
every  arch  or  gable  not  tied  at  its  base  by  beams  or  bars,  ex- 
ercises a  lateral  pressure  upon  the  walls  which  sustain  it, — 
pressure  which  may,  indeed,  be  met  and  sustained  by  increas- 
ing the  thickness  of  the  wall  or  vertical  piers,  and  which  is  in 
reality  thus  met  in  most  Italian  buildings,  but  may,  with  less 
expenditure  of  material,  and  with  (perhaps)  more  graceful 
effect,  be  met  by  some  particular  application  of  the  provisions 
against  lateral  pressure  called  Buttresses.  These,  therefore, 
we  are  next  to  examine. 

§  n.  Buttresses  are  of  many  kinds,  according  to  the  char- 
acter and  direction  of  the  lateral  forces  they  are  intended  to 
resist.  But  their  first  broad  division  is  into  buttresses  which 
meet  arid >  break  the  force  before  it  arrives  at  the  wall,  and, 
buttresses  which  stand  on  the  lee  side  of  the  wall,  and  prop  it^ 
against  the  force. 

The  lateral  forces  which  walls  have  to  sustain  are  of  three 
distinct  kinds :  dead  weight,  as  of  masonry  or  still  water ; 
moving  weight,  as  of  wind  or  running  water ;  and  sudden 
concussion,  as  of  earthquakes,  explosions,  &c. 

Clearly,  dead  weight  can  only  be  resisted  by  the  buttress 
acting  as  a  prop  ;  for  a  buttress  on  the  side  of,  or  towards 
the  weight,  would  only  add  to  its  effect.  This,  then,  forms 
the  first  great  class  of  buttressed  architecture  ;  lateral  thrusts, 
of  roofing  or  arches,  being  met  by  props  of  masonry  outside — 
the  thrusts  from  within,  the  prop  without ;  or  the  crushing 
force  of  water  on  a  ship's  side  met  by  its  cross  timbers — the 
thrust  here  from  without  the  wall,  the  prop  within. 

Moving  weight  may,  o"  course,  be  resisted  by  the  prop  on 


170  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

the  lee  side  of  the  wall,  but  is  often  more  effectually  met,  on 
the  side  which  is  attacked,  by  buttresses  of  peculiar  forms, 
cunning  buttresses,  which  do  not  attempt  to  sustain  the 
weight,  but  parry  it,  and  throw  it  off  in  directions  clear  ol 
the  wall. 

Thirdly  :  concussions  and  vibratory  motion,  though  in  real- 
ity only  supported  by  the  prop  buttress,  must  be  provided 
for  by  buttresses  on  both  sides  of  the  wall,  as  their  direction 
cannot  be  foreseen,  and  is  continually  changing. 

We  shall  briefly  glance  at  these  three  systems  of  buttress- 
ing ;  but  the  two  latter  being  of  small  importance  to  our  pres- 
ent purpose,  may  as  well  be  dismissed  first. 

§  in.  1.  Buttresses  for  guard  against  moving  weight  and 
set  towards  the  weight  they  resist 

The  most  familiar  instance  of  this  kind  of  buttress  we  have 
in  the  sharp  piers  of  a  bridge,  in  the  centre  of  a  powerful 
stream,  which  divide  the  current  on  their  edges,  and  throw  it 
to  each  side  under  the  arches.  A  ship's  bow  is  a  buttress  of 
the  same  kind,  and  so  also  the  ridge  of  a  breastplate,  both 
adding  to  the  strength  of  it  in  resisting  a  cross  blow,  and  giv- 
ing a  better  chance  of  a  bullet  glancing  aside.  In  Switzer- 
land, projecting  buttresses  of  this  kind  are  often  built  round 
churches,  heading  up  hill,  to  divide  and  throw  off  the  ava- 
lanches. The  various  forms  given  to  piers  and  harbor  quays, 
and  to  the  bases  of  lighthouses,  in  order  to  meet  the  force  of 
the  waves,  are  all  conditions  of  this  kind  of  buttress.  But  in 
works  of  ornamental  architecture  such  buttresses  are  of  rare 
occurrence  ;  and  I  merely  name  them  in  order  to  mark  their 
place  in  our  architectural  system,  since  in  the  investigation  of 
our  present  subject  we  shall  not  meet  with  a  single  example 
of  them,  unless  sometimes  the  angle  of  the  foundation  of  a 
palace  set  against  the  sweep  of  the  tide,  or  the  wooden  piers 
of  some  canal  bridge  quivering  in  its  current. 

§  iv.  2.  Buttresses  for  guard  against  vibratory  motion. 

The  whole  formation  of  this  kind  of  buttress  resolves  itself 
into  mere  expansion  of  the  base  of  the  wall,  so  as  to  make  ifc 
stand  steadier,  as  a  man  stands  with  his  feet  apart  when  he  is 
likely  to  lose  his  balance.  This  approach  to  a  pyramidal  form 


THE  BUTTRESS.  171 

is  also  of  great  use  as  a  guard  against  the  action  of  artillery  ; 
that  if  a  stone  or  tier  of  stones  be  battered  out  of  the  lower 
portions  of  the  wall,  the  whole  upper  part  may  not  topple  over 
or  crumble  down  at  once.  Various  forms  of  this  buttress, 
sometimes  applied  to  particular  points  of  the  wall,  sometimes 
forming  a  great  sloping  rampart  along  its  base,  are  frequent 
in  buildings  of  countries  exposed  to  earthquake.  They  give 
a  peculiarly  heavy  outline  to  much  of  the  architecture  of  the 
kingdom  of  Naples,  and  they  are  of  the  form  in  which  strength 
and  solidity  are  first  naturally  sought,  in  the  slope  of  the 
Egyptian  wall.  The  base  of  Guy's  Tower  at  Warwick  is  a 
singularly  bold  example  of  their  military  use  ;  and  so,  in  gen- 
eral, bastion  and  rampart  profiles,  where,  however,  the  object 
of  stability  against  a  shock  is  complicated  with  that  of  sustair- 
ing  weight  of  earth  in  the  rampart  behind. 

§  v.  3.  Prop  buttresses  against  dead  weight. 

This  is  the  group  with  which  we  have  principally  to  do  ; 
and  a  buttress  of  this  kind  acts  in  two  ways,  partly  by  its 
weight  and  partly  by  its  strength.  It  acts  by  its  weight  when 
its  mass  is  so  great  that  the  weight  it  sustains  cannot  stir  it, 
but  is  lost  upon  it,  buried  in  it,  and  annihilated  :  neither  the 
shape  of  such  a  buttress  nor  the  cohesion  of  its  materials  are 
of  much  consequence  ;  a  heap  of  stones  or  sandbags,  laid  up 
against  the  wall,  will  answer  as  well  as  a  built  and  cemented 
mass. 

But  a  buttress  acting  by  its  strength  is  not  of  mass  suffi- 
cient to  resist  the  weight  by  mere  inertias  but  JJL  conveys  th» 

is  so 


blej  as,  for  instance,  a  man  leaning  against  a  door  with  his 
hands,  and  propping  himself  against  the  ground,  conveys  the 
force  which  would  open  or  close  the  door  against  him  through 
his  body  to  the  ground.  _A_bnfirAaa-fl^ting  jnJihJH  way  must 
be  of  perfectly  coherent  materials,  and  so  strong  that  though 
ti^j^fiighj^foJfrA  V>nrr>A  ^nu^-easUj^moveJt^.^DPpt  break 
it  :  this  kind  of  buttress  may  be  called  a/conducting  buttreggL^ 
Practically,  however,  the  two  modes  of  action  are  alwaysin 
some  sort  united.  Again,  the  weight  to  be  borne  may  either 
act  generally  on  the  whole  wall  surface,  or  with  excessive  en- 


172  THE  STONES  OF    VENICE. 

ergy  on  particular  points  :  when  it  acts  on  the  whole  wall  sur- 
face, the  whole  wall  is  generally  supported  ;  and  the  arrange* 
ment  becomes  a  continuous  rampart,  as  a  dyke,  or  bank  of 
reservoir. 

§  VL  It  is,  however,  very  seldom  that  lateral  force  in  archi- 
tecture is  equally  distributed.  In  most  cases  the  weight  of 
the  roof,  or  jhe^force  of  any  lateral  thrust,  are  more  or  less 
Confined  to  certain  points  and  directions.  In  an  early  state  of 
architectural  science  this  definiteness  of  direction  is  not  yet 
clear,  and  it  is  met  by  uncertain  application,  of  mass  or 
strength  in  the  buttress,  sometimes  by  mere  thickening  of  the 
wall  into  square  piers,  which  are  partly  piers,  partly  buttresses, 
as  in  Norman  keeps  and  towers.  But  as  science  advances,  the 
weight  to  be  borne  is  designedly  and  decisively  thrown  upon 
certain  points ;  the  direction  and  degree  of  the  forces  which 
are  then  received  are  exactly  calculated,  and  met  by  conduct- 
ing buttresses  of  the  smallest  possible  dimensions  ;  themselves, 
in  their  turn,  supported  by  vertical  buttresses  acting  by  weight, 
and  these  perhaps,  in  their  turn,  by  another  set  of  conducting 
buttresses  :  so  that,  in  the  best  examples  of  such  arrange- 
ments, the  weight  to  be  borne^may  be  considered  as  the  shock 
pf-«n  electric  fluid,  which,  by  a  hundred  differe_nt  rods  and 
channels,  is  divided  and  carried  away  into  the  ground. 

§  VIL  In  order  to  give  greater  weight  to  the  vertical  but- 
tress piers  which  sustain  the  conducting  buttresses,  they  are . 
Joaded  with  pinnacles,  which,  however,  are,  I  believe,  in  all 
the  buildings  in  which  they  become  very  prominent,  merely 
decorative  :  they  are  of  some  use,  indeed,  by  their  weight ; 
but  if  this  were  all  for  which  they  were  put  there,  a  few  cubi« 
feet  of  lead  would  much  more  securely  answer  the  purpose, 
without  any  danger  from  exposure  to  wind.  If  the  reader 
likes  to  ask  any  Gothic  architect  with  whom  he  may  happen 
to  be  acquainted,  to  substitute  a  lump  of  lead  for  his  pinnacles, 
he  will  see  by  the  expression  of  his  face  how  far  he  considers 
the  pinnacles  decorative  members.  In  the  work  which  seemi 
to  me  the  great  type  of  simple  and  masculine  buttress  struct- 
ure, the  apse  of  Beauvais,  the  pinnacles  are  altogether  insig- 
nificant, and  are  evidently  added  just  as  exclusively  to  enter- 


THE  BUTTRESS.  173 

tain  the  eye  and  lighten  the  aspect  of  the  buttress,  as  the 
slight  shafts  which  are  set  on  its  angles  ;  while  in  other  very 
noble  Gothic  buildings  the  pinnacles  are  introduced  as  nichee 
for  statues,  without  any  reference  to  construction  at  all  :  and 
sometimes  even,  as  in  the  tomb  of  Can  Signoria  at  Verona,  on 
small  piers  detached  from  the  main  building. 

§  vm.  I  believe,  therefore,  Jjhatjthe  development  of  the  pin- 
nacle^ isjnerely  a  part  of  the  general  erectness  and  picturesque' 
ness  of  northern  work  above  alluded  to  :  and  that,  if  there  had 
been  no  other  place  for  the  pinnacles,  the  Gothic  builders 
would  have  put  them  on  the  tops  of  their  arches  (they  often 
did  on  the  tops  of  gables  and  pediments),  rather  than  not  have 
had  them  ;  but  the  natural  position  of  the  pinnacle  is,  of 
course,  where  it  adds  to,  rather  than  diminishes,  the  stability 
of  the  building  ;  that  is  to  say,  on  its  main  wall  piers  and  the 
vertical  piers  at  the  buttresses.  And  thus  the  edifice  is  sur- 
«y^  fry  a  complete  company  of  detached  piers~and 
an  inclined  prop  against  the  central 


waU,  and  looking  something  like  a  band  of  giants  holding  it 
up  with  the  butts  of  their  lances.  This  arrangement  would 
imply  the  loss  of  an  enormous  space  of  ground,  but  the  inter- 
vals of  the  buttresses  are  usually  walled  in  below,  and  form 
minor  chapels. 

§  IX.  The  science  of  jjiiajnigapgfimenf.  hfl.a  maflp  if.  j.^Q 
sufeject-0f-^au43h-^nthusiastio-  Reclamation  among  the  Gothic 
architects,  almost  as  unreasonable,  in  some  respects,  as  the 
declamation  of  the  Renaissance  architects  respecting  Greek 
structure.  Ihe^act  is,-  that  the  whole  northern  buttress  sys- 
tem  is  based  on  the  grand  requirement  of  tall  windows  and 
vast  masses  of  light  at  the  end  of  the  apse.  In  order  to  gain 
this  quantity  of  light,  the  piers  between  the  windows  are  di- 
minished^in  thickness  until  they  are  far  too  weak  to  bear  the 
roof,  and  then  sustained  by  external  buttresses.  In  the  Italian 
method  the  Jightjs  rather  dreaded  than  desired,  and  the  wall 
is  made  wide  enough  between  the  windows  to  bear  the  roof, 
and  so  left.  In  fact,  the  simplest  expression  of  the  difference 
in  the  systems  is,  jhat  j,  northern  apse  is  ajiouthemjonfi  with 
its  inter-feneitrial  pjiers  set  edgeways.  Thus,  a,  Fig.  XJLtL,  is 


174          THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

the  general  idea  of  the  southern  apse  ;  take  it  to  pieces,  and 
set  all  its  piers  edgeways,  as  at  6,  and  you  have  the  northern 
one.  Yc3i_£uinjn^h_U^  the 

exteriqrJojpjecea^BJid  instead  of  a  bold  rounded  or  polygonal' 
^surface,  ready  for  any  land  of  decoration,  you  have  a  series 
of  dark  and  damp  cells,  which  no  device  that  I  have  yet  seen 
nas  succeeded  in  decorating  in  a  perfectly  satisfactory  man- 
ner.  If  the  system  be  farther  carried,  and  a  second  or  third 
order  of  buttresses  be  added,  the  real  fact  is  that  we  have  a 
building  standing  on  two  or  three  rows  of  concentric  piers, 
with  the  roof  off  the  whole  of  it  except  the  central  circle,  and 
only  ribs  left,  to  carry  the  weight  of  the  bit  of  remaining  root 
bo  the  middle  ;  and  after  the  eye  has  been  accustomed  to  the 


Fio.  XTJL 

bold  and  simple  rounding  of  the  Italian  apse,  the  skeleton 

character  of  the  disposition  is  painfully  felt.  After  spending 
some  months  in  Venice,  I  thought  Bourges  Cathedral  looked 
exactly  like  a  half -built  ship  on  its  shores.  It  is  useless,  how- 
ever, to  dispute  respecting  the  merits  of  the  two  systems  • 
both  are  noble  in  their  place  ;  the  Northern  decidedly  the 
most  scientific,  or  at  least  involving  the  greatest  display  of 
science,  the  Italian  the  calmest  and  purest,  this  having  in  it 
the  sublimity  of  a  calm  heaven  .or  a  windless  noon,  the  other 
that  of  a  mountain  flank  tormented  by  the  north  wind,  and 
withering  into  grisly  furrows  of  alternate  chasm  and  crag. 

§  x.  If  I  have  succeeded  in  making  the  reader  understand 
the  veritable  action  of  the  buttress,  he  will  have  no  difficultj 
in  determining  its  fittest  form.  He  has  to  deal  with  two  dis- 
tinct kinds  :  ^neT  a  narrow /vertical  pier,  acting  jjrincipally  by 


THE  BUTTRESS.  175 

its  weight,  and  crowned  by  a  pinnacle  ;  the  other,  commonly 
called  a  Flying  buttress,  a  cross  bar  set  from  such  a  pier  (when 
detached  from  the  building)  against  the  main  wall.  This 
latter,  then,  is  to  be  considered  as  a  mere  prop  or  shore,  and 
its  use  by  the  Gothic  architects,  might  be  illustrated  by  the 
supposition  that  we  were  to  build  all  our  houses  with  walls  too 
irlihi  to  stand  without  wooden  props  outside,  and  then  to  sub- 
stitute stone  props  for  wooden  ones.  I  have  some  doubts  of 
fche  real  dignity  of  such  a  proceeding,  but  at  all  events  the 
merit  of  the  form  of  the  flying  buttress  depends  on  its  faith- 
fully and  visibly  performing  this  somewhat  humble  office  ;  it 
is,  therefore,  in  its  purity,^  mere  sloping  bar  of  stone,  with 
an  arch  beneath  it  to  cany  its  weight,  that  is  to  say,  to  pre- 
vent the  action  of  gravity  from  in  any  wise  deflecting  it,  or 
causing  it  to  break  downwards  under  the  lateral  thrust ;  it  is 
thus  formed  quite  simple  in  Nortre  Dame  of  Paris,  and  in  the 
Cathedral  of  Beauvais,  while  at  Cologne  the  sloping  bars  are 
pierced  with  quatrefoils,  and  at  Amiens  with  traceried  arches. 
Both  seem  to  me  effeminate  and  false  in  principle  ;  not,  of 
Bourse,  that  there  is  any  occasion  to  make  the  flying  buttress 
\ieavy,  if  a  light  one  will  answer  the  purpose  ;  JjuLit  seems  as 
if  some  security  were  sacrificed  to  ornament.  At  Amiens  the 
arrangement  is  now  seen  to  great  disadvantage,  for  the  early 
traceries  have  been  replaced  by  base  flamboyant  ones,  utterly 
weak  and  despicable.  Of  the  degradations  of  the  original 
form  which  took  place  in  after  times,  I  have  spoken  at  p.  35 
of  the  "  Seven  Lamps." 

§  xi.  The  form  of  the  common  buttress  must  be  familar  to 
the  eye  of  every  reader,  sloping  if  low,  and  thrown  into 
successive  steps  if  they  are  to  be  carried  to  any  considerable 
height.  There  is  much  dignity  in  them  when  they  are  of 
essential  service  ;  but  even  in  their  best  examples,  their  awk- 
ward angles  are  among  the  least  manageable  features  of  the 
Northern  Gothic,  and  the  whole  organisation  of  its  system  was 
destroyed  by  their  unnecessary  and  lavish  application  on  a 
diminished  scale  ;  until  the  buttress  became  actually  confused 
with  the  shaft,  and  we  find  strangely  crystallised  masses  of 
diminutive  buttress  applied,  for  merely  vertical  support,  in  tlie 


176  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

northern  tabernacle  work ;  while  in  some  recent  copies  of  it 
the  principle  has  been  so  far  distorted  that  the  tiny  buttress- 
ings  look  as  if  they  carried  the  superstructure  on  the  points 
of  their  pinnacles,  as  in  the  Cranmer  memorial  at  Oxford. 
Indeed,  in  most  modern  Gothic,  the  architects  evidently  jcon-_ 
sider  buttresses  as  convenient,  breaks  of  blank  surface,  and 
general  apologies  for  deadness  of  wall.  The^-stand  in  tha 
placeof  ideas,  and  I  think  are  supposed  also  to  have  something 
of  the  odor  of  sanctity  about  them  ;  otherwise,  one  hardly  sees 
why  a  warehouse  seventy  feet  high  should  have  nothing  of  the 
kind,  and  a  chapel,  which  one  can  just  get  into  with  one's  hat 
off,  should  have  a  bunch  of  them  at  every  corner ;  and  worse 
than  this,  they  are  even  thought  ornamental  when  they  can  be 
of  no  possible  use  ;  and  these  stupid  penthouse  outlines  are 
forced  upon  the  eye  in  every  species  of  decoration  :  in  St. 
Margaret's  Chapel,  West  Street,  there  are  actually  a  couple  of 
buttresses  at  the  end  of  every  pew. 

§  XIL  It  is  almost  impossible,  in  consequence  of  these  un- 
wdse  repetitions  of  it,  to  contemplate  the  buttress  without  some 
degree  of  prejudice ;  and  I  look  upon  it  as  one  of  the  most 
justifiable  causes  of  the  unfortunate  aversion  with  which  many 
of  our  best  architects  regard  the  whole  Gothic  school  It 
may,  however,  always  be  regarded  with  respect  when  its  form 
is  simple  and  its  service  clear  ;  but  no  treason  to  Gothic  can  be 
greater  than  the  use  of  it  in  indolence  or  vanity,  to  enhance 
the  intricacies  of  structure,  or  occupy  the  vacuities  of  design. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


FORM      OF     APERTURE. 


§  L  WE  have  now,  in  order,  examined  the  means  of  raising 
walls  and  sustaining  roofs,  and  we  have  finally  to  consider  the 
structure  of  the  necessary  apertures  in  the  wall  veil,  the  door 
and  window  ;  respecting  which  there  are  three  main  points  to 
be  considered. 


FORM  OF  APERTURE.  177 

1.  The  form  of  the  aperture,  i.e.,  its  outline,  its  size,  and 

the  forms  of  its  sides. 

2.  The  filling  of  the  aperture,  i.e.,  valves  and  glass,  and 

their  holdings. 

3.  The  protection  of  the  aperture,  and  its  appliances,  i.e., 

canopies,  porches,  and  balconies.     We  shall  examine 
these  in  succession. 

§  n.  1.  The  form  of  the  aperture :  and  first  of  doors.  We 
will,  for  the  present,  leave  out  of  the  question  doors  and  gates 
in  unroofed  walls,  the  forms  of  these  being  very  arbitrary,  and 
confine  ourselves  to  the  consideration  of  doors  of  entrance  into 
roofed  buildings.  Such  doors  will,  for  the  most  part,  be  at, 
or  near,  the  base  of  the  building  ;  except  when  raised  for  pur- 
poses of  defence,  as  in  the  old  Scotch  border  towers,  and  our 
own  Martello  towers,  or,  as  in  Switzerland,  to  permit  access  in 
deep  snow,  or  when  stairs  are  carried  up  outside  the  house  for 
convenience  or  magnificence.  But  in  most  cases,  whether  high 
or  low,  a  door  may  be  assumed  to  be  considerably  lower  than 
the  apartments  or  buildings  into  which  it  gives  admission,  and 
therefore  to  have  some  height  of  wall  above  it,  whose  weight 
must  be  carried  by  the  heading  of  the  door.  It  is  clear,  there- 
fore, that  the  best  heading  must  be  an  arch,  because  the 
strongest,  and  that  a  square-headed  door  must  be  wrong,  unless 
under  Mont-Cenisian  masonry  ;  or  else,  unless  the  top  of  the 
door  be  the  roof  of  the  building,  as  in  low  cottages.  And  a 
square -headed  door  is  just  so  much  more  wrong  and  ugly  than 
a  connexion  of  main  shafts  by  lintels,  as  the  veight  of  wall 
above  the  door  is  likely  to  be  greater  than  that  above  the  main 
shafts.  Thus,  while  I  admit  the  Greek  general  forms  of  tem- 
ple to  be  admirable  in  their  kind,  I  think  the  Greek  door 
always  offensive  and  unmanageable. 

§  m.  We  have  it  also  determined  by  necessity,  that  the 
apertures  shall  be  at  least  above  a  man's  height,  with  perpen- 
dicular sides  (for  sloping  sides  are  evidently  unnecessary,  and 
even  inconvenient,  therefore  absurd)  and  level  threshold  ;  and 
this  aperture  we  at  present  suppose  simply  cut  through  th« 
wall  without  any  bevelling  of  the  jambs.  Such  a  door,  wide 
VOL.  L— 13 


178  TEL  STONES   OF   VENICE. 

enough  for  two  persons  to  pass  each  other  easily,  and  witli 
such  fillings  or  valves  as  we  may  hereafter  find  expedient, 
may  be  fit  enough  for  any  building  into  which  entrance  is  re- 
quired neither  often,  nor  by  many  persons  at  a  time.  But 
when  entrance  and  egress  are  constant,  or  required  by 
crowds,  certain  further  modifications  must  take  place. 

§  iv.  When  entrance  and  egress  are  constant,  it  may  be 
lupposed  that  the  valves  will  be  absent  or  unfastened, — that 

people  will  be  passing  more  quickly 
than  when  the  entrance  and  egress 
are  unfrequent,  and  that  the  square 
angles  of  the  wall  will  be  incon- 
venient to  such  quick  passers 
through.  It  is  evident,  therefore, 
that  what  would  be  done  in  time, 

Fig.  XLIII.  .      ' 

for  themselves,  by  the  passing 

multitude,  should  be  done  for  them  at  once  by  the  architect ; 
and  that  these  angles,  which  would  be  worn  away  by  friction, 
should  at  once  be  bevelled  off,  or,  as  it  is  called,  splayed,  and 
the  most  contracted  part  of  the  aperture  made  as  short  as  pos- 
sible, so  that  the  plan  of  the  entrance  should  become  as  at  a, 
Fig.  XLIEL 

§  v.  Farther.  As  persons  on  the  outside  may  often  ap- 
proach the  door  or  depart  from  it,  beside  the  building,  so  as 
to  turn  aside  as  they  enter  or  leave  the  door,  and  therefore 
touch  its  jamb,  but,  on  the  inside,  will  in  almost  every  case 
approach  the  door,  or  depart  from  it  in  the  direct  line  of  the 
entrance  (people  generally  walking  forward  when  they  enter 
a  hall,  court,  or  chamber  of  any  kind,  and  being  forced  to  do 
so  when  they  enter  a  passage),  it  is  evident  that  the  bevelling 
may  be  very  slight  on  the  inside,  but  should  be  large  on  the 
outside,  so  that  the  plan  of  the  aperture  should  become  as  at 
b,  Fig.  XLHL  Farther,  as  the  bevelled  wall  cannot  con- 
veniently carry  an  unbevelled  arch,  the  door  arch  must  be 
bevelled  also,  and  the  aperture,  seen  from  the  outside,  will 
have  somewhat  the  aspect  of  a  small  cavern  diminishing  to- 
wards the  interior. 

§  VL  If,  however,  beside  frequent  entrance,  entrance  is  r& 


FORM  OF  APERTURE.  179 

quired  for  multitudes  at  the  same  time,  the  size  of  the  aper« 
ture  either  must  be  increased,  or  other  apertures  must  be  in- 
troduced. It  may,  in  some  buildings,  be  optional  with  tha 
architect  whether  he  shall  give  many  small  doors,  or  few 
large  ones ;  and  in  some,  as  theatres,  amphitheatres,  and 
other  places  where  the  crowd  are  apt  to  be  impatient,  many 
doors  are  by  far  the  best  arrangement  of  the  two.  Often 
however,  the  purposes  of  the  building,  as  when  it  is  to  be  en- 
tered by  processions,  or  where  the  crowd  most  usually  enter 
in  one  direction,  require  the  large  single  entrance  ;  and  (for 
here  again  the  aesthetic  and  structural  laws  cannot  be  sepa- 
rated) the  expression  and  harmony  of  the  building  require,  in 
nearly  every  case,  an  entrance  of  largeness  proportioned  to 
the  multitude  which  is  to  meet  within.  Nothing  is  more  un- 
seemly than  that  a  great  multitude  should  find  its  way  out 
and  in,  as  ants  and  wasps  do,  through  holes  ;  and  nothing 
more  undignified  than  the  paltry  doors  of  many  of  our  Eng- 
lish cathedrals,  which  look  as  if  they  were  made,  not  for  the 
open  egress,  but  for  the  surreptitious  drainage  of  a  stagnant 
congregation.  Besides,  the  expression  of  the  church  door 
should  lead  us,  as  far  as  possible,  to  desire  at  least  the  west- 
ern entrance  to  be  single,  partly  because  no  man  of  right 
feeling  would  willingly  lose  the  idea  of  unity  and  fellowship 
in  going  up  to  worship,  which  is  suggested  by  the  vast  single 
entrance  ;  partly  because  it  is  at  the  entrance  that  the  most 
serious  words  of  the  building  are  always  addressed,  by  its 
sculptures  or  inscriptions,  to  the  worshipper ;  and  it  is  well, 
that  these  words  should  be  spoken  to  all  at  once,  as  by  one  great 
voice,  not  broken  up  into  weak  repetitions  over  minor  doors. 
In  practice  the  matter  has  been,  I  suppose,  regulated  almost 
altogether  by  convenience,  the  western  doors  being  single  in 
small  churches,  while  in  the  larger  the  entrances  become  three 
or  five,  the  central  door  remaining  always  principal,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  fine  sense  of  composition  which  the  mediseval 
builders  never  lost  These  arrangements  have  formed  the 
noblest  buildings  in  the  world.  Yet  it  is  worth  observing* 

*  And  worth  questioning,  also,  whether  the  triple  porch  has  not  been 
B8o«iated  with  Romanist  views  of  mediatorship ;  the  Redeemer  being 


180  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

how  perfect  in  its  simplicity  the  single  entrance  may  becom^ 
when  it  is  treated  as  in  the  Duomo  and  St.  Zeno  of  Verona* 
and  other  such  early  Lombard  churches,  having  noble  porches, 
and  rich  sculptures  grouped  around  the  entrance. 

§  vii.  However,  whether  the  entrances  be  single,  triple,  or 
manifold,  it  is  a  constant  law  that  one  shall  be  principal,  and 
all  shall  be  of  size  in  some  degree  proportioned  to  that  of 
the  building.  And  this  size  is,  of  course,  chiefly  to  be  ex- 
pressed in  width,  that  being  the  only  useful  dimension  in  a 
door  (except  for  pageantry,  chairing  of  bishops  and  waving  ol 
banners,  and  other  such  vanities,  not,  I  hope,  after  this  cen- 
tury, much  to  be  regarded  in  the  building  of  Christian 
temples) ;  but  though  the  width  is  the  only  necessary  dimen- 
sion, it  is  well  to  increase  the  height  also  in  some  proportion 
to  it,  in  order  that  there  may  be  less  weight  of  wall  above, 
resting  on  the  increased  span  of  the  arch.  This  is,  however, 
so  much  the  necessary  result  of  the  broad  curve  of  the  arch 
itself,  that  there  is  no  structural  necessity  of  elevating  the 
jamb  ;  and  I  believe  that  beautiful  entrances  might  be  made 
of  every  span  of  arch,  retaining  the  jamb  at  a  little  more  than 
a  man's  height,  until  the  sweep  of  the  curves  became  so  vast 
that  the  small  vertical  line  became  a  part  of  them,  and  one 
entered  into  the  temple  as  under  a  great  rainbow. 

§  vm.  On  the  other  hand,  the  jamb  may  be  elevated  indef- 
initely, so  that  the  increasing  entrance  retains  at  least  the 
proportion  of  width  it  had  originally  ;  say  4  ft.  by  7  ft.  5  in. 
But  a  less  proportion  of  width  than  this  has  always  a  meagre, 
inhospitable,  and  ungainly  look  except  in  military  architecture, 
where  the  narrowness  of  the  entrance  is  necessary,  and  its 

represented  as  presiding  over  the  central  door  only,  and  the  lateral  en- 
trances being  under  the  protection  of  saints,  while  the  Madonna  almost 
always  has  one  or  both  of  the  transepts.  But  it  would  be  wrong  to  press 
this,  for,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  the  architect  has  been  merely  influenced 
In  his  placing  of  the  statues  by  an  artist's  desire  of  variety  in  their  forms 
and  dress ;  and  very  naturally  prefers  putting  a  canonisation  over  one 
door,  a  martyrdom  over  another,  and  an  assumption  over  a  third,  to 
repeating  a  crucifixion  or  a  judgment  above  all.  The  architect's  doctrine 
is  only,  therefore,  to  be  noted  with  indisputable  reprobation  when  th« 
Kadwaaa  g«t*  possession  of  the  main  door. 


FORM  OF  APERTURE.  181 

height  adds  to  its  grandeur,  as  between  the  entrance  towers 
of  our  British  castles.  This  law  however,  observe,  applies 
only  to  true  doors,  not  to  the  arches  of  porches,  which  may  be 
of  any  proportion,  as  of  any  number,  being  in  fact  interco- 
lumniations,  not  doors ;  as  in  the  noble  example  of  the  west 
front  of  Peterborough,  which,  in  spite  of  the  destructive 
absurdity  of  its  central  arch  being  the  narrowest,  would  still, 
if  the  paltry  porter's  lodge,  or  gatehouse,  or  turnpike,  or  what- 
ever it  is,  were  knocked  out  of  the  middle  of  it,  be  the  noblest 
west  front  in  England. 

§  ix.  Further,  and  finally.  In  proportion  to  the  height  and 
size  of  the  building,  and  therefore  to  the  size  of  its  doors,  will 
be  the  thickness  of  its  walls,  especially  at  the  foundation,  that 
is  to  say,  beside  the  doors ;  and  also  in  proportion  to  the 
numbers  of  a  crowd  will  be  the  unruliness  and  pressure  of  it. 
Hence,  partly  in  necessity  and  partly  in  prudence,  the  splay- 
ing or  chamfering  of  the  jamb  of  the  larger  door  will  be 
deepened,  and,  if  possible,  made  at  a  larger  angle  for  the  large 
door  than  for  the  small  one  ;  so  that  the  large  door  will  always 
be  encompassed  by  a  visible  breadth  of  jamb  proportioned  to 
its  own  magnitude.  The  decorative  value  of  this  feature  we 
shall  see  hereafter. 

§  x.  The  second  kind  of  apertures  we  have  to  examine 
are  those  of  windows. 

Window  apertures  are  mainly  of  two  kinds ;  those  for  out- 
look, and  those  for  inlet  of  light,  many  being  for  both  pur- 
poses, and  either  purpose,  or  both,  combined  in  military  archi- 
tecture with  those  of  offence  and  defence.  But  all  window 
apertures,  as  compared  with  door  apertures,  have  almost 
infinite  licence  of  form  and  size  :  they  may  be  of  any  shape, 
from  the  slit  or  cross  slit  to  the  circle  ;  *  of  any  size,  from  the 
loophole  of  the  castle  to  the  pillars  of  light  of  the  cathedral 
apse.  Yet,  according  to  their  place  and  purpose,  one  or  two 

*  The  arch  heading  is  indeed  the  best  where  there  is  much  incumbent 
weight,  but  a  window  frequently  has  very  little  weight  above  it,  especial- 
ly when  placed  high,  and  the  arched  form  loses  light  in  a  low  room : 
therefore  the  square-headed  window  is  admissible  where  the  square1 
headed  door  is  not. 


182  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

laws  of  fitness  hold  respecting  them,  which  let  us  examine  in 
the  two  classes  of  windows  successively,  but  without  reference 
to  military  architecture,  which  here,  as  before,  we  may  dismiss 
as  a  subject  of  separate  science,  only  noticing  that  windows, 
like  all  other  features,  are  always  delightful,  if  not  beautiful, 
when  their  position  and  shape  have  indeed  been  thus  neces- 
sarily determined,  and  that  many  of  their  most  picturesque 
forms  have  resulted  from  the  requirements  of  war.  We  should 
also  find  in  military  architecture  the  typical  forms  of  the  two 
classes  of  outlet  and  inlet  windows  in  their  utmost  develop- 
ment ;  the  greatest  sweep  of  sight  and  range  of  shot  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  fullest  entry  of  light  and  air  on  the  other, 
being  constantly  required  at  the  smallest  possible  apertures. 
Our  business,  however,  is  to  reason  out  the  laws  for  ourselves, 
not  to  take  the  examples  as  we  find  them. 

§  xi.  1.  Outlook  apertures.  For  these  no  general  outline  is 
determinable  by  the  necessities  or  inconveniences  of  outlook- 
ing,  except  only  that  the  bottom  or  sill  of  the  windows,  at 
whatever  height,  should  be  horizontal,  for  the  convenience  of 
leaning  on  it,  or  standing  on  it  if  the  window  be  to  the  ground. 
The  form  of  the  upper  part  of  the  window  is  quite  immaterial, 
for  all  windows  allow  a  greater  range  of  sight  when  they  are 
approached  than  that  of  the  eye  itself :  it  is  the  approachabili ty 
of  the  window,  that  is  to  say,  the  annihilation  of  the  thickness 
of  the  wall,  which  is  the  real  point  to  be  attended  to.  If, 
therefore,  the  aperture  be  inaccessible,  or  so  small  that  the 
thickness  of  the  wall  cannot  be  entered,  the  wall  is  to  be 
bevelled  *  on  the  outside,  so  as  to  increase  the  range  of  sight 
as  far  as  possible ;  if  the  aperture  can  be  entered,  then  bevelled 
from  the  point  to  which  entrance  is  possible.  The  bevelling 
will,  if  possible,  be  in  every  direction,  that  is  to  say,  upwards 
at  the  top,  outwards  at  the  sides,  and  downwards  at  the  bottom, 
but  essentially  downwards ;  the  earth  and  the  doings  upon  it 
being  the  chief  object  in  outlook  windows,  except  of  observa- 
tories; and  where  the  object  is  a  distinct  and  special  view 
downwards,  it  will  be  of  advantage  to  shelter  the  eye  as  far 

*  I  do  not  like  the  sound  of  the  word  "splayed  ;  "  I  always  shall  UM 
"bevelled"  instead. 


FORM  OF  APERTURE.  188 

as  possible  from  the  rays  of  light  coining  from  above,  and  the 
head  of  the  window  may  be  left  horizontal,  or  even  the  whole 
aperture  sloped  outwards,  as  the  slit  in  a  letter-box  is  inwards. 

The  best  windows  for  outlook  are,  of  course,  oriels  and  bow 
windows,  but  these  are  not  to  be  considered  under  the  head 
of  apertures  merely ;  they  are  either  balconies  roofed  and 
glazed,  and  to  be  considered  under  the  head  of  external  appli- 
ances, or  they  are  each  a  story  of  an  external  semi-tower  hav- 
ing true  aperture  windows  on  each  side  of  it. 

§  xn.  2.  Inlet  windows.  These  windows  may,  of  course,  be 
of  any  shape  and  size  whatever,  according  to  the  other  neces- 
sities of  the  building,  and  the  quantity  and  direction  of  light 
desired,  their  purpose  being  now  to  throw  it  in  streams  on 
particular  lines  or  spots  ;  now  to  diffuse  it  everywhere  ;  some- 
times to  introduce  it  in  broad  masses,  tempered  in  strength,  as 
in  the  cathedral  colored  window  ;  sometimes  in  starry  showeri 
of  scattered  brilliancy,  like  the  apertures  in  the  roof  of  an 
Arabian  bath  ;  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  of  all  forms  being 
the  rose,  which  has  in  it  the  unity  of  both  characters  and 
sympathy  with  that  of  the  source  of  light  itself.  It  is  notice- 
able, however,  that  while  both  the  circle  and  pointed  oval  are 
beautiful  window  forms,  it  would  be  very  pain- 
ful to  cut  either  of  them  in  half  and  connect 
them  by  vertical  lines,  as  in  Fig.  XLIV.  The 
reason  is,  I  believe,  that  so  treated,  the  upper 
arch  is  not  considered  as  connected  with  the  3^.,  ILIV. 
lower,  and  forming  an  entire  figure,  but  as  the 
ordinary  arch  roof  of  the  aperture,  and  the  lower  arch  as  an 
archyfoor,  equally  unnecessary  and  unnatural  Also,  the  ellip- 
tical oval  is  generally  an  unsatisfactory  form,  because  it  gives 
the  idea  of  useless  trouble  in  building  it,  though  it  occurs 
quaintly  and  pleasantly  in  the  former  windows  of  France :  I 
believe  it  is  also  objectionable  because  it  has  an  indeterminate, 
slippery  look,  like  that  of  a  bubble  rising  through  a  fluid.  It, 
and  all  elongated  forms,  are  still  more  objectionable  placed 
horizontally,  because  this  is  the  weakest  position  they  can 
structurally  have ;  that  is  to  say,  less  light  is  admitted,  with 
greater  loss  of  strength  to  the  building,  than  by  any  otiier 


184  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

form.  If  admissible  anywhere,  it  is  for  the  sake  of  variety  at 
the  top  of  the  building,  as  the  flat  parallelogram  sometimes 
not  ungracefully  in  Italian  Renaissance. 

§  xm.  The  question  of  bevelling  becomes  a  little  more* 
complicated  in  the  inlet  than  the  outlook  window,  because 
the  mass  or  quantity  of  light  admitted  is  often  of  more  conse- 
quence than  its  direction,  and  often  vice  versd  ;  and  the  out- 
look window  is  supposed  to  be  approachable,  which  is  far 
from  being  always  the  case  with  windows  for  light,  so  that 
the  bevelling  which  in  the  outlook  window  is  chiefly  to  open 
range  of  sight,  is  in  the  inlet  a  means  not  only  of  admitting 
the  light  in  greater  quantity,  but  of  directing  it  to  the  spot 
on  which  it  is  to  fall.  But,  in  general,  the  bevelling  of  the 
one  window  will  reverse  that  of  the  other ;  for,  first,  no  nat- 
urai  light  will  strike  on  the  inlet  window  from  beneath,  un- 
less reflected  light,  which  is  (I  believe)  injurious  to  the  health 
and  the  sight ;  and  thus,  while  in  the  outlook  window  the 
outside  bevel  downwards  is  essential,  in  the  inlet  it  would  be 
useless  :  and  the  sill  is  to  be  flat,  if  the  window  be  on  a  level 
with  the  spot  it  is  to  light  ;  and  sloped  downwards  within, 
if  above  it.  Again,  as  the  brightest  rays  of  light  are  the 
steepest,  the  outside  bevel  upwards  is  as  essential  in  the  roof 
of  the  inlet  as  it  was  of  small  importance  in  that  of  the  out- 
look window. 

§  xiv.  On  the  horizontal  section  the  aperture  will  expand 
internally,  a  somewhat  larger  number  of  rays  being  thus  re- 
flected from  the  jambs ;  and  the  aperture  being  thus  the 
smallest  possible  outside,  this  is  the  favorite  military  form  of 
inlet  window,  always  found  in  magnificent  development  in 
the  thick  walls  of  mediaeval  castles  and  convents.  Its  effect  is 
tranquil,  but  cheerless  and  dungeon-like  in  its  fullest  develop- 
ment, owing  to  the  limitation  of  the  range  of  sight  in  the  out- 
look, which,  if  the  window  be  unapproachable,  reduces  it  to 
a  mere  point  of  light.  A  modified  condition  of  it,  with  some 
combination  of  the  outlook  form,  is  probably  the  best  for  do- 
mestic buildings  in  general  (which,  however,  in  modern  archi- 
tecture, are  unhappily  so  thin  walled,  that  the  outline  of  the 
jambs  becomes  a  matter  almost  of  indifference),  it  being  gei* 


FILLING   OF  APERTURE.  185 

erally  noticeable  that  the  depth  of  recess  which  I  have  ob- 
served  to  be  essential  to  nobility  of  external  effect  has  also  a 
certain  dignity  of  expression,  as  appearing  to  be  intended 
rather  to  admit  light  to  persons  quietly  occupied  in  their 
homes,  than  to  stimulate  or  favor  the  curiosity  of  idleness. 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

FTT.TJNQ   OF   APERTURE. 

§  i.  THUS  far  we  have  been  concerned  with  the  outline  only 
of  the  aperture  :  we  were  next,  it  will  be  remembered,  to 
consider  the  necessary  modes  of  filling  it  with  valves  in  the 
case  of  the  door,  or  with  glass  or'  tracery  in  that  of  the 
window. 

1.  Fillings  of  doors.  We  concluded,  in  the  previous  Chap- 
ter, that  doors  in  buildings  of  any  importance  or  size  should 
have  headings  in  the  form  of  an  arch.  This  is,  however,  the 
most  inconvenient  form  we  could  choose,  as  respects  the  fitting 
of  the  valves  of  the  doorway  ;  for  the  arch-shaped  head  of  the 
valves  not  only  requires  considerable  nicety  in  fitting  to  the 
arch,  but  adds  largely  to  the  weight  of  the  door, — a  double 
disadvantage,  straining  the  hinges  and  making  it  cumbersome 
in  opening.  And  this  inconvenience  is  so  much  perceived  by 
the  eye,  that  a  door  valve  with  a  pointed  head  is  always  a  dis- 
agreeable object.  It  becomes,  therefore,  a  matter  of  true 
necessity  so  to  arrange  the  doorway  as  to  admit  of  its  being 
fitted  with  rectangular  valves. 

§  n.  Now,  in  determining  the  form  of  the  aperture,  we 
supposed  the  jamb  of  the  door  to  be  of  the  utmost  height  re- 
quired for  entrance.  The  extra  height  of  the  arch  is  unneces- 
sary as  an  opening,  the  arch  being  required  for  its  strength 
only,  not  for  its  elevation.  There  is,  therefore,  no  reason  why 
it  should  not  be  barred  across  by  a  horizontal  lintel,  into  which 
the  valves  may  be  fitted,  and  the  triangular  or  semicircular 
arched  space  above  the  lintel  may  then  be  permanently  closed, 
as  we  choose,  either  with  bars,  or  glass,  or  stone. 


186  THE  STONES  OF    VENICE. 

This  is  the  form  of  all  good  doors,  without  exception,  ovef 
the  whole  world  and  in  all  ages,  and  no  other  can  ever  be  in* 
Tented. 

§  in.  In  the  simplest  doors  the  cross  lintel  is  of  wood  only, 
and  glass  or  bars  occupy  the  space  above,  a  very  frequent  form 
in  Venice.  In  more  elaborate  doors  the  cross  lintel  is  of 
stone,  and  the  filling  sometimes  of  brick,  sometimes  of  stone, 
very  often  a  grand  single  stone  being  used  to  close  the  entire 
space  :  the  space  thus  filled  is  called  the  Tympanum.  In 
large  doors  the  cross  lintel  is  too  long  to  bear  the  great  incum- 
bent weight  of  this  stone  filling  without  support ;  it  is,  there- 
fore, carried  by  a  pier  in  the  centre  ;  and  two  valves  are  used, 
fitted  to  the  rectangular  spaces  on  each  side  of  the  pier.  In 
the  most  elaborate  examples  of  this  condition,  each  of  these 
secondary  doorways  has  an  arch  heading,  a  cross  lintel,  aud  a 
triangular  filling  or  tympanum  of  its  own,  all  subordinated  to 
the  main  arch  above. 

§  rv.  2.  Fillings  of  windows. 

When  windows  are  large,  and  to  be  filled  with  glass,  the 
sheet  of  glass,  however  constructed,  whether  of  large  panes  or 
small  fragments,  requires  the  support  of  bars  of  some  kind, 
either  of  wood,  metal,  or  stone.  Wood  is  inapplicable  on  a 
large  scale,  owing  to  its  destructibility  ;  very  fit  for  door- 
Talves,  which  can  be  easily  refitted,  and  in  which  weight 
would  be  an  inconvenience,  but  very  unfit  for  window-bars, 
which,  if  they  decayed,  might  let  the  whole  window  be  blown 
in  before  their  decay  was  observed,  and  in  which  weight 
would  be  an  advantage,  as  offering  more  resistance  to  the 
wind. 

Iron  is,  however,  fit  for  window-bars,  and  there  seems  no 
constructive  reason  why  we  should  not  have  iron  traceries,  ae 
well  as  iron  pillars,  iron  churches,  and  iron  steeples.  But  I 
have,  in  the  "  Seven  Lamps,"  given  reasons  for  not  consider- 
ing such  structures  as  architecture  at  all. 

The  window-bars  must,  therefore,  be  of  stone,  and  of  stone 
only. 

§  v.  The  purpose  of  the  window  being  always  to  let  in  as 
much  light,  and  command  as  much  view,  as  possible,  theae 


FILLING   OF  APERTURE.  187 

bars  of  stone  are  to  be  made  as  slender  and  as  few  as  they  can 
be,  consistently  with  their  due  strength. 

Let  it  be  required  to  support  the  breadth  of  glass,  a,  b,  Fig. 
XLV.  The  tendency  of  the  glass  sustaining  any  force,  as  oi 
wind  from  without,  is  to  bend 

into   an  arch  inwards,  in  the  & 5 

dotted  line,  and  break  in  the  »     £      • 

centre.     It  is  to  be  supported, 

therefore,  by  the  bar  put  in  its  A I     *     °     B 

centre,  c. 

But  this  central  bar,  c,  may 
not  be  enough,  and  the  spaces 
ac,cb,  may  still  need  support 
The  next  step  will  be  to  put 
two  bars  instead  of  one,  and 
divide  the  window  into  three 
spaces  as  at  d. 

But  this  may  still  not  be 
enough,  and  the  window  may 

need  three  bars.  Now  the  greatest  stress  is  always  on  the  centre 
of  the  window.  If  the  three  bars  are  equal  in  strength,  as  at 
e,  the  central  bar  is  either  too  slight  for  its  work,  or  the  lat- 
eral bars  too  thick  for  theirs.  Therefore,  we  must  slightly 
increase  the  thickness  of  the  central  bar,  and  diminish  that  of 
the  lateral  ones,  so  as  to  obtain  the  arrangement  &tfh.  If 
the  window  enlarge  farther,  each  of  the  spaces  fg,g  h,  is 
treated  as  the  original  space  a  b,  and  we  have  the  groups  of 
bars  k  and  I. 

So  that,  whatever  the  shape  of  the  window,  whatever  the 
direction  and  number  of  the  bars,  there  are  to  be  central  or 
main  bars ;  second  bars  subordinated  to  them ;  third  bars 
subordinated  to  the  second,  and  so  on  to  the  number  required. 
This  is  called  the  subordination  of  tracery,  a  system  delight- 
ful to  the  eye  and  mind,  owing  to  its  anatomical  framing  and 
unity,  and  to  its  expression  of  the  laws  of  good  government 
in  all  fragile  and  unstable  things.  All  tracery,  therefore, 
which  is  not  subordinated,  is  barbarous,  in  so  far  as  this  part 
of  its  structure  is  concerned. 


188  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE 

§  vi.  The  next  question  will  be  the  direction  of  the  bars. 
The  reader  will  understand  at  once,  without  any  laborious 
proof,  that  a  given  area  of  glass,  supported  by  its  edges,  is 
stronger  in  its  resistance  to  violence  when  it  is  arranged  in  a 
long  strip  or  band  than  in  a  square ;  and  that,  therefore,  glass 
is  generally  to  be  arranged,  especially  in  windows  on  a  large 
scale,  in  oblong  areas :  and  if  the  bars  so  dividing  it  be  placed 
horizontally,  they  will  have  less  power  of  supporting  them- 
selves, and  will  need  to  be  thicker  in  consequence,  than  if 
placed  vertically.  As  far,  therefore,  as  the  form  of  the  win- 
dow permits,  they  are  to  be  vertical. 

§  vn.  But  even  when  so  placed,  they  cannot  be  trusted  to 
support  themselves  beyond  a  certain  height,  but  will  need 
cross  bars  to  steady  them.  Cross  bars  of  stone  are,  therefore, 
to  be  introduced  at  necessary  intervals,  not  to  divide  the 
glass,  but  to  support  the  upright  stone  bars.  The  glass  is 
always  to  be  divided  longitudinally  as  far  as  possible,  and  the 
upright  bars  which  divide  it  supported  at  proper  intervals. 
However  high  the  window,  it  is  almost  impossible  that  it 
should  require  more  than  two  cross  bars. 

§  vin.  It  may  sometimes  happen  that  when  tall  windows 
are  placed  very  close  to  each  other  for  the  sake  of  more  light, 
the  masonry  between  them  may  stand  in  need,  or  at  least  be 
the  better  of,  some  additional  support.  The  cross  bars  of  the 
windows  may  then  be  thickened,  in  order  to  bond  the  inter- 
mediate piers  more  strongly  together,  and  if  this  thickness 
appear  ungainly,  it  may  be  modified  by  decoration. 

§  ix.  We  have  thus  arrived  at  the  idea  of  a  vertical  frame 
work  of  subordinated  bars,  supported  by  cross  bars  at  the 
necessary  intervals,  and  the  only  remaining  question  is  the 
method  of  insertion  into  the  aperture.  Whatever  its  form,  if 
we  merely  let  the  ends  of  the  bars  into  the  voussoirs  of  its 
heading,  the  least  settlement  of  the  masonry  would  distort  the 
arch,  or  push  up  some  of  its  voussoirs,  or  break  the  window 
bars,  or  push  them  aside.  Evidently  our  object  should  be  to 
connect  the  window  bars  among  themselves,  so  framing  them 
together  that  they  may  give  the  utmost  possible  degree  of 
support  to  the  whole  window  head  in  case*  of  any  settlement. 


FILLING   OF  APERTURE.  189 

But  we  know  how  to  do  this  already :  our  window  bars  are 
nothing  but  small  shafts.  Capital  then  ;  throw  small  arches 
across  between  the  smaller  bars,  large  arches  over  them  be- 
tween the  larger  bars,  one  comprehensive  arch  over  the  whole, 
or  else  a  horizontal  lintel,  if  the  window  have  a  flat  head ;  and 
we  have  a  complete  system  of  mutual  support,  independent  of 
the  aperture  head,  and  yet  assisting  to  sustain  it,  if  need  be. 
But  we  want  the  spandrils  of  this  arch  system  to  be  them- 
selves as  light,  and  to  let  as  much  light  through  them,  as  pos- 
sible :  and  we  know  already  how  to  pierce  them  (Chap.  XIL 
§  VIL).  We  pierce  them  with  circles;  and  we  have,  if  the 
circles  are  small  and  the  stonework  strong,  the  traceries  of 
Giotto  and  the  Pisan  school ;  if  the  circles  are  as  large  as  pos- 
sible and  the  bars  slender,  those  which  I  have  already  figured 
and  described  as  the  only  perfect  traceries  of  the  Northern 
Gothic.*  The  varieties  of  their  design  arise  partly  from  the 
different  size  of  window  and  consequent  number  of  bars  ; 
partly  from  the  different  heights  of  their  pointed  arches,  as 
well  as  the  various  positions  of  the  window  head  in  relation 
to  the  roof,  rendering  one  or  another  arrangement  better 
for  dividing  the  light,  and  partly  from  aesthetic  and  expres- 
sional  requirements,  which,  within  certain  limits,  may  be  al» 
lowed  a  very  important  influence :  for  the  strength  of  the  bars 
is  ordinarily  so  much  greater  than  is  absolutely  necessary, 
that  some  portion  of  it  may  be  gracefully  sacrificed  to  the 
attainment  of  variety  in  the  plans  of  tracery — a  variety  which, 
even  within  its  severest  limits,  is  perfectly  endless ;  more  es- 
pecially in  the  pointed  arch,  the  proportion  of  the  tracery 
being  in  the  round  arch  necessarily  more  fixed. 

§  x.  The  circular  window  furnishes  an  exception  to  the 
common  law,  that  the  bars  shall  be  vertical  through  the 
greater  part  of  their  length  :  for  if  they  were  so,  they  could 
neither  have  secure  perpendicular  footing,  nor  secure  heading, 
their  thrust  being  perpendicular  to  the  curve  of  the  voussoirs 
only  in  the  centre  of  the  window ;  therefore,  a  small  circle, 
like  the  axle  of  a  wheel,  is  put  into  the  centre  of  the  window, 
large  enough  to  give  footing  to  the  necessary  number  of  radi 
*  "  S«ven  Lamps.  '  p.  60. 


190  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

ating  bars  ;  and  the  bars  are  arranged  as  spokes,  being  all  of 
course  properly  capitaled  and  arch-headed.  This  is  the  best 
form  of  tracery  for  circular  windows,  naturally  enough  called 
wheel  windows  when  so  filled. 

§  xi.  Now,  I  wish  the  reader  especially  to  observe  that  we 
have  arrived  at  these  forms  of  perfect  Gothic  tracery  without 
the  smallest  reference  to  any  practice  of  any  school,  or  to 
any  law  of  authority  whatever.  They  are  forms  having  essen- 
tially nothing  whatever  to  do  either  with  Goths  or  Greeks. 
They  are  eternal  forms,  based  on  laws  of  gravity  and  cohe- 
sion ;  and  no  better,  nor  any  others  so  good,  will  ever  be  in- 
vented, so  long  as  the  present  laws  of  gravity  and  cohesion 
subsist. 

§  XIL  It  does  not  at  all  follow  that  this  group  of  forms 
owes  its  origin  to  any  such  course  of  reasoning  as  that  which 
has  now  led  us  to  it.  On  the  contrary,  there  is  not  the  small- 
est doubt  that  tracery  began,  partly,  in  the  grouping  of  win- 
dows together  (subsequently  enclosed  within  a  large  arch*),  and 
partly  in  the  fantastic  penetrations  of  a  single  slab  of  stones 
under  the  arch,  as  the  circle  in  Plate  V.  above.  The  perfect 
form  seems  to  have  been  accidentally  struck  in  passing  from 
experiment  on  the  one  side,  to  affectation  on  the  other  ;  and 
it  was  so  far  from  ever  becoming  systematised,  that  I  am 
aware  of  no  type  of  tracery  for  which  a  less  decided  preference 
is  shown  in  the  buildings  in  which  it  exists.  The  early  pierced 
traceries  are  multitudinous  and  perfect  in  their  kind, — the  late 
Flamboyant,  luxuriant  in  detail,  and  lavish  in  quantity, — but 
the  perfect  forms  exist  in  comparatively  few  churches,  gener- 
ally in  portions  of  the  church  only,  and  are  always  connected, 
and  that  closely,  either  with  the  massy  forms  out  of  which 
they  have  emerged,  or  with  the  enervated  types  into  which 
they  are  instantly  to  degenerate. 

§  xm.  Nor  indeed  are  we  to  look  upon  them  as  in  all  points 

*  On  the  north  side  of  the  nave  of  the  cathedral  of  Lyons,  there  is  an 
early  French  window,  presenting  one  of  the  usual  groups  of  foliated 
arches  and  circles,  left,  as  it  were,  loose,  without  any  enclosing  curve 
The  effect  is  very  painful.  This  remarkable  window  is  associated  with 
others  of  the  jommon  form. 


FILLING   OF  APERTURE.  191 

superior  to  the  more  ancient  examples.  We  have  above  con- 
ducted our  reasoning  entirely  on  the  supposition  that  a  single 
aperture  is  given,  which  it  is  the  object  to  fill  with  glass,  di- 
minishing the  power  of  the  light  as  little  as  possible.  But 
there  are  many  cases,  as  in  triforium  and  cloister  lights,  in 
which  glazing  is  not  required  ;  in  which,  therefore,  the  bars, 
if  there  be  any,  must  have  some  more  important  function 
than  that  of  merely  holding  glass,  and  in  which  their  actual 
use  is  to  give  steadiness  and  tone,  as  it  were,  to  the  arches 
and  walls  above  and  beside  them  ;  or  to  give  the  idea  of  pro- 
tection to  those  who  pass  along  the  triforium,  and  of  seclu- 
sion to  those  who  walk  in  the  cloister.  Much  thicker  shafts, 
and  more  massy  arches,  may  be  properly  employed  in  work 
of  this  kind  ;  and  many  groups  of  such  tracery  will  be  found 
resolvable  into  true  colonnades,  with  the  arches  in  pairs,  or  in 
triple  or  quadruple  groups,  and  with  small  rosettes  pierced 
above  them  for  light.  All  this  k  ]ust  as  right  in  its  place,  as 
the  glass  tracery  is  in  its  own  function,  and  often  much  more 
grand.  But  the  same  indulgence  is  not  to  be  shown  to  the 
affectations  which  succeeded  the  developed  forms.  Of  these 
there  are  three  principal  conditions :  the  Flamboyant  of 
France,  the  Stump  tracery  of  Germany,  and  the  Perpendicu- 
lar of  England. 

§  xiv.  Of  these  the  first  arose,  by  the  most  delicate  and 
natural  transitions,  out  of  the  perfect  school.  It  was  an  en- 
deavor to  introduce  more  grace  into  its  lines,  and  more 
change  into  its  combinations  ;  and  the  aesthetic  results  are  so 
beautiful,  that  for  some  time  after  the  right  road  had  been 
left,  the  aberration  was  more  to  be  admired  than  regretted. 
The  final  conditions  became  fantastic  and  effeminate,  but,  in 
the  country  where  they  had  been  invented,  never  lost  their 
peculiar  grace  until  they  were  replaced  by  the  Renaissance. 
The  copies  of  the  school  in  England  and  Italy  have  all  its 
faults  and  none  of  its  beauties  ;  in  France,  whatever  it  lost  in 
method  or  in  majesty,  it  gained  in  fantasy :  literally  Flam- 
boyant, it  breathed  away  its  strength  into  the  air  ;  but  there  is 
not  more  difference  between  the  commonest  doggrel  that  eve* 
broke  prose  into  unintelligibility,  and  the  burning  mystery 


192  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

of  Coleridge,  or  spirituality  of  Elizabeth  Barrett,  than  there  is 
between  the  dissolute  dulness  of  English  Flamboyant,  and 
the  flaming  undulations  of  the  wreathed  lines  of  delicate 
stone,  that  confuse  themselves  with  the  clouds  of  every  morn- 
ing sky  that  brightens  above  the  valley  of  the  Seine. 

§  xv.  The  second  group  of  traceries,  the  intersectional  or 
German  group,  may  be  considered  as  including  the  entire 
range  of  the  absurd  forms  which  were  invented  in  order  to 
display  dexterity  in  stone-cutting  and  ingenuity  in  construc- 
tion. They  express  the  peculiar  character  of  the  German 
mind,  which  cuts  the  frame  of  every  truth  joint  from  joint,  in 
order  to  prove  the  edge  of  its  instruments  ;  and,  in  all  cases, 
prefers  a  new  or  a  strange  thought  to  a  good  one,  and  a 
subtle  thought  to  a  useful  one.  The  point  and  value  of  the 
German  tracery  consists  principally  in  turning  the  features 
of  good  traceries  upside  down,  and  cutting  them  in  two 
where  they  are  properly  continuoua  To  destroy  at  once 
foundation  and  membership,  and  suspend  everything  in  the 
air,  keeping  out  of  sight,  as  far  as  possible,  the  evidences  of  a 
beginning  and  the  probabilities  of  an  end,  are  the  main  ob- 
jects of  German  architecture,  as  of  modern  German  divinity. 

§  xvi.  This  school  has,  however,  at  least  the  merit  of  in- 
genuity. Not  so  the  English  Perpendicular,  though  a  very 
curious  school  also  in  its  way.  In  the  course  of  the  rea- 
soning which  led  us  to  the  determination  of  the  perfect 
Gothic  tracery,  we  were  induced  successively  to  reject  certain 
methods  of  arrangement  as  weak,  dangerous,  or  disagreeable. 
Collect  all  these  together,  and  practise  them  at  once,  and  you 
have  the  English  Perpendicular. 

As  thus.  You  find  in  the  first  place  (§  v.),  that  your  tracery 
bars  are  to  be  subordinated,  less  to  greater ;  so  you  take  a 
group  of,  suppose,  eight,  which  you  make  all  exactly  equal, 
giving  you  nine  equal  spaces  in  the  window,  as  at  A,  Fig, 
XLVL  You  found,  in  the  second  place  (§  vn.),  that  there 
was  no  occasion  for  more  than  two  cross  bars  ;  so  you  take  at 
least  four  or  five  (also  represented  at  A,  Fig.  XLVL),  also 
carefully  equalised,  and  set  at  equal  spaces.  You  found,  in 
the  third  place  (§  VHL),  that  these  bars  were  to  be  strength- 


FILLING   OF  APERTURE. 


193 


ened,  in  order  to  support  the  main  piers ;  you  will  Iherelci  i 
cut  the  ends  off  the  uppermost,  and  the  fourth  into  ihrt* 
pieces  (as  also  at  A).  In  the  fourth  place,  you  found  (§  ix.) 
that  you  were  never  to  run  a  vertical  bar  into  the  arch  head  ; 
so  you  run  them  all  into  it  (as  at  B,  Fig.  XL VI.) :  and  this 
last  arrangement  will  be  useful  in  two  ways,  for  it  will  not 
only  expose  both  the  bars  and  the  archivolt  to  an  apparent 
probability  of  every  species  of  dislocation  at  any  moment,  but 
it  will  provide  you  with  two  pleasing  interstices  at  the  flanks, 
in  the  shape  of  carving-knives,  a,  b,  which,  by  throwing  across 


Y 

S 

\ 

\ 

\ 
u 

X 

U 

i 

e 

T 

B 

Fio.  XL  VI. 

nn 


7W^ 


n^ 


the  curves  c,  rf,  you  may  easily  multiply  into  four  ;  and  these, 
as  you  can  put  nothing  into  their  sharp  tops,  will  afford  you  a 
ttiore  than  usually  rational  excuse  for  a  little  bit  of  German- 
ism, in  filling  them  with  arches  upside  down,  e,  f.  You  will 
now  have  left  at  your  disposal  two  and  forty  similar  inter- 
stices, which,  for  the  sake  of  variety,  you  will  proceed  to  fill 
with  two  and  forty  similar  arches  :  and,  as  you  were  told  that 
the  moment  a  bar  received  an  arch  heading,  it  was  to  be 
treated  as  a  shaft  and  capitalled,  you  will  take  care  to  give 
your  bars  no  capitals  nor  bases,  but  to  run  bars,  foliations 
and  all,  well  into  each  other  after  the  fashion  of  cast-iron,  as 
VOL.  L— 18 


194  TEE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

at  C.  You  have  still  two  triangular  spaces  occurring  in  ar, 
important  part  of  your  window,  g,  g,  which,  as  they  are  very 
conspicuous,  and  you  cannot  make  them  uglier  than  they  are, 
you  will  do  wisely  to  let  alone  ; — and  you  will  now  have  the 
west  window  of  the  cathedral  of  Winchester,  a  very  perfect 
example  of  English  Perpendicular.  Nor  do  I  think  that  you 
can,  on  the  whole,  better  the  arrangement,  unless,  perhaps, 
by  adding  buttresses  to  some  of  the  bars,  as  is  done  in  the 
cathedral  at  Gloucester ;  these  buttresses  having  the  double 
advantage  of  darkening  the  window  when  seen  from  within, 
and  suggesting,  when  it  is  seen  from  without,  the  idea  of  its 
being  divided  by  two  stout  party  walls,  with  a  heavy  thrust 
against  the  glass. 

§  xvn.  Thus  far  we  have  considered  the  plan  of  the  tracery 
only  :  we  have  lastly  to  note  the  conditions  under  which  the 
glass  is  to  be  attached  to  the  bars  ;  and  the  sections  of  the 
bars  themselves. 

These  bars  we  have  seen,  in  the  perfect  form,  are  to  become 
shafts ;  but,  supposing  the  object  to  be  the  admission  of  as 
much  light  as  possible,  it  is  clear  that  the  thickness  of  the  bar 
ought  to  be  chiefly  in  the  depth  of  the  window,  and  that  by 
increasing  the  depth  of  the  bar  we  may  diminish  its  breadth  : 
clearly,  therefore,  we  should  employ  the  double  group  of 
shafts,  b,  of  Fig.  XIV.,  setting  it  edgeways  in  the  window : 
but  as  the  glass  would  then  come  between  the  two  shafts,  we 
must  add  a  member  into  which  it  is  to  be  fit- 

(•       ted,  as  at  a,  Fig.  XLVH,   and  uniting  these 
mB     three  members  together  in  the  simplest  way, 
w       with  a  curved  instead  of  a  sharp  recess  behind 
*        VL vii        ^e  sna^8»  we  have  the  section  b,  the  perfect, 
but  simplest  type  of  the  main  tracery  bars  in 
good  Gothic.      In  triforium  and  cloister  tracery,  which  has  no 
glass  to  hold,  the  central  member  is  omitted,  and  we  have 
either  the  pure  double  shaft,  always  the  most  graceful,  or  a 
single  and  more  massy  shaft,  which  is  the  simpler  and  more 
usual  form. 

§  xviii.  Finally :  there  is  an  intermediate  arrangement  be 
tween  the  glazed  and  the  open  tracery,  that  of  the  domestic 


FILLING   OF  APERTURE.  195 

traceries  of  Venice.  Peculiar  conditions,  hereafter  to  be  de- 
scribed, require  the  shafts  of  these  traceries  to  become  the 
main  vertical  supports  of  the  floors  and  walls.  Their  thick- 
ness is  therefore  enormous  ;  and  yet  free  egress  is  required 
between  them  (into  balconies)  which  is  obtained  by  doors  in 
their  lattice  glazing.  To  prevent  the  inconvenience  and  ugli- 
ness of  driving  the  hinges  and  fastenings  of  them  into  the 
shafts,  and  having  the  play  of  the  doors  in  the  intervals,  the 
entire  glazing  is  thrown  behind  the  pillars,  and  attached 
to  their  abaci  and  bases  with  iron.  It  is  thus  securely  sus- 
tained by  their  massy  bulk,  and  leaves  their  symmetry  and 
shade  undisturbed. 

§  xix.  The  depth  at  which  the  glass  should  be  placed,  in 
windows  without  traceries,  will  generally  be  fixed  by  the 
forms  of  their  bevelling,  the  glass  occupying  the  narrowest 
interval ;  but  when  its  position  is  not  thus  fixed,  as  in  many 
London  houses,  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  the  deeper  the 
glass  is  set  (the  wall  being  of  given  thickness),  the  more  light 
will  enter,  and  the  clearer  the  prospect  will  be  to  a  person 
sitting  quietly  in  the  centre  of  the  room  ;  on  the  contrary, 
the  farther  out  the  glass  is  set,  the  more  convenient  the  win- 
dow will  be  for  a  person  rising  and  looking  out  of  it.  The 
one,  therefore,  is  an  arrangement  for  the  idle  and  curious, 
who  care  only  about  what  is  going  on  upon  the  earth :  the 
other  for  those  who  are  willing  to  remain  at  rest,  so  that  they 
have  free  admission  of  the  light  of  Heaven.  This  might  be 
noted  as  a  curious  expressional  reason  for  the  necessity  (of 
which  no  man  of  ordinary  feeling  would  doubt  for  a  moment) 
of  a  deep  recess  in  the  window,  on  the  outside,  to  all  good  or 
architectural  effect :  still,  as  there  is  no  reason  why  people 
should  be  made  idle  by  having  it  in  their  power  to  look  out 
of  window,  and  as  the  slight  increase  of  light  or  clearness  of 
view  in  the  centre  of  a  room  is  more  than  balanced  by  the 
loss  of  space,  and  the  greater  chill  of  the  nearer  glass  and 
outside  air,  we  can,  I  fear,  allege  no  other  structural  reason 
for  the  picturesque  external  recess,  than  the  expediency  of  a 
certain  degree  of  protection,  for  the  glass,  from  the  brightest 
glare  of  sunshine,  and  heaviest  rush  ol  rain. 


196  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 


CHAPTER 

PROTECTION    OP   APERTURE. 

§  i.  WE  have  hitherto  considered  the  aperture  as  merely 
pierced  in  the  thickness  of  the  walls  ;  and  when  its  masonry 
is  simple  and  the  fillings  of  the  aperture  are  unimportant,  it 
may  well  remain  so.  But  when  the  fillings  are  delicate  and 
of  value,  as  in  the  case  of  colored  glass,  finely  wrought 
tracery,  or  sculpture,  such  as  we  shall  often  find  occupying 
the  tympanum  of  doorways,  some  protection  becomes  neces- 
sary against  the  run  of  the  rain  down  the  walls,  and  back  by 
the  bevel  of  the  aperture  to  the  joints  or  surface  of  the  fill- 
ings. 

§  n.  The  first  and  simplest  mode  of  obtaining  this  is  by 
channelling  the  jambs  and  arch  head ;  and  this  is  the  chief 
practical  service  of  aperture  mouldings,  which  are  otherwise 
entirely  decorative.  But  as  this  very  decorative  character 
renders  them  unfit  to  be  made  channels  for  rain  water,  it  is 
well  to  add  some  external  roofing  to  the  aperture,  which  may 
protect  it  from  the  run  of  all  the  rain,  except  that  which 
necessarily  beats  into  its  own  area.  This  protection,  in  its 
most  usual  form,  is  a  mere  dripstone  moulding  carried  over 
or  round  the  head  of  the  aperture.  But  this  is,  in  reality, 
only  a  contracted  form  of  a  true  roof,  projecting  from  the  wall 
over  the  aperture ;  and  all  protections  of  apertures  whatso- 
ever are  to  be  conceived  as  portions  of  small  roofs,  attached 
to  the  wall  behind  ;  and  supported  by  it,  so  long  as  their  scale 
admits  of  their  being  so  with  safety,  and  afterwards  in  such 
manner  as  may  be  most  expedient.  The  proper  forms  of 
these,  and  modes  of  their  support,  are  to  be  the  subject  of 
our  final  enquiry. 

§  in.  Respecting  their  proper  form  we  need  not  stay  long 
in  doubt.  A  deep  gable  is  evidently  the  best  for  throwing  off 
rain  ;  even  a  low  gable  being  better  than  a  high  arch.  Flat 
roofs,  therefore,  may  only  be  used  when  the  nature  of  the 
building  renders  the  gable  unsightly  ;  as  when  there  is  not 
room  for  it  between  the  stories  ;  or  when  the  object  is  rather 


PROTECTION  OF  APERTURE. 


197 


shade  than  protection  from  rain,  as  often  in  verandahs  and 

balconies.     But  for  general  service  the  gable 

is  the  proper  and  natural  form,  and  may  be 

taken  as  representative  of  the  rest.     Then 

this  gable  may  either  project  unsupported 

from  the  wall,  a,  Fig.  XLVHL,  or  be  carried 

by  brackets  or  spurs,  b,  or  by  walls  or  shafts, 

c,  which  shafts  or  walls  may  themselves  be, 

in  windows,  carried  on  a  sill ;  and  this,  in  its 

turn,  supported  by  brackets  or  spurs.     We 

shall  glance  at  the  applications  of  each  of 

these  forms  in  order. 

§  iv.  There   is   not   much  variety  in  the 

case  of  the  first,   a,  Fig.  XLVIH.  *   In  the 

Cumberland  and  border  cottages  the  door 

is  generally  protected  by  two  pieces  of  slate 

arranged  in  a  gable,  giving  the  purest  pos- 
sible type  of  the  first  form.     In  elaborate 

architecture   such  a  projection  hardly  ever 

occurs,  and  in  large  architecture  cannot  with 

safety  occur,  without  brackets  ;  but  by  cut- 
ting away  the  greater  part  of  the  projection, 

we  shall  arrive  at  the  idea  of  a 
plain  gabled  cornice,  of  which  a 
perfect  example  will  be  found 
in  Plate  VET.  of  the  folio  series. 
With  this  first  complete  form 
we  may  associate  the  rude, 
single,  projecting,  pent-house 
roof ;  imperfect,  because  either 
it  must  be  level  and  the  water 
lodge  lazily  upon  it,  or  throw 
off  the  drip  upon  the  persons 
entering. 

§  v.  2.  b,  Fig.  XLVm.     This 
is  a  most  beautiful  and  natural 

type,  and  is  found  in  all  good  architecture,  from  the  highest 

to  the  most  humble :  it  is  a  frequent  form  of   cottage  door, 


Fio.  XLVIII. 


Fio.  XLIX. 


198  THE  STONES  OF    VENICE. 

dore  especially  when  carried  on  spurs,  being  of  peculiarly 
easy  construction  in  wood  :  as  applied  to  large  architecture, 
It  can  evidently  be  built,  in  its  boldest  and  simplest  form, 
either  of  wood  only,  or  on  a  scale  which  will  admit  of  its 
sides  being  each  a  single  slab  of  stone.  If  so  large  as  to  re- 
quire jointed  masonry,  the  gabled  sides  will  evidently  require 
support,  and  an  arch  must  be  thrown  across  under  them,  as 
in  Fig.  XLDL,  from  Fiesole. 

If  we  cut  the  projection  gradually  down,  we^arrive  at  the 

common   Gothic   gable  dripstone   carried  on  small  brackets 

.carved   into  bosses,  heads,  or  some  other  ornamental  form  ; 

the  sub-arch  in  such  case  being  useless,  is  removed  or  coin- 

cides with  the  arch  head  of  the  aperture. 

§  VL  3.  c,  Fig.  XLVILL  Substituting  walls  or  pillars  for 
the  brackets,  we  may  carry  the  projection  as  far  out  as  we 
choose,  and  form  the  perfect  porch,  either  of  the  cottage  or 
Tillage  church,  or  of  the  cathedral.  As  we  enlarge  the  struct^ 
certain,  mftdifjcations  of  form  become  neces- 


sary, owing  to  the  increased  boldness  of  the  required 


porting  arch.  For,  as  the  lower  end  of  thej^abled  roof  and— 
of  the  arch  cannot  coincide,  we  have  necessarily  abose_- Ui(L 
shafts  one  of  the  two  forms  a  or. b,  in  Fig.  L.,  of  which  the 
latter  is  clearly  the  best,  requiring  less  masonry  and  shorter 
roofing ;  and  when  the  arch  becomes  so  large  as  to  cause  a 
heavy  lateral  thrust,  it  may  bjegomajiecessary  to  provide  for 

_itsjar4her  safety  by  pinnacles,  c. 

Ihis-lasfr  -is~fche  perfect  type  of  aperture_protection.     None 
other  can  ever  be  iuventfcd  so  good.     It  is  that  once  emplojred__ 


PROTECTION  OF  APERTUKE.        191 

by  Giotto  in  the  cathedral  of  Florence,  and  torn  down  by 
the  proveditore,  Benedetto  Uguccioue,  to  erect  a  Renaissance 
front  instead  ;  and  another  such  has  been  destroyed,  not  long 
since,  in  Venice,  the  porch  of  the  church  of  St.  ApoUinare, 
also  to  put  up  some  Renaissance  upholstery  :  for  Renaissance,, 
as  if  it  were  notjmigajage_enough  in_the  mere  fact  of  its  own 
existence,  appears  invariably  as  a  beast  of  prey,  and  founds 
itself  on  the  ruin  of  all  that  is  best  and  noblest.  Many  such 
porches,  however,  happily  still  exist  in  Italy,  and  are  among 
its  principal  glories. 

§  vn.  When  porches  of  this  kind,  carried  by  walls,  are  placed 
close  together,  as  in  cases  where  there  are  many  and  large 
entrances  to  a  cathedral  front,  they  would,  in  their  general  form, 
leave  deep  and  uncomfortable  intervals,  in  which  damp  would 
lodge  and  grass  grow  ;  and  there  would  be  a  painful  feeling 
in  approaching  the  door  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd,  as  if  some 
of  them  might  miss  the  real  doors,  and  be  driven  into  the 
intervals,  and  embayed  there.  Clearly  it  will  be  a  natural 
and  right  expedient,  in  such  cases,  to  open  the  walk  of  the 
porch  wider,  so  that  they  may  correspond  in  slope,  or  nearly 
so,  with  the  bevel  of  the  doorway,  and  either  meet  each  other 
in  the  intervals,  or  have  the  said  intervals  closed  up  with  an 
intermediate  wall,  so  that  nobody  may  get  embayed  in  them. 
The  porches  will  thus  be  united,  and  form  one  range  of  great 
open  guiphs  or  caverns,  ready  to  receive  all  comers,  and  di- 
rect the  current  of  the  crowd  into  the  narrower  entrancea 
As  the  lateral  thrust  of  the  arches  is  now  met  by  each  other, 
the  pinnacles,  if  there  were  any,  must  be  removed,  and  water- 
spouts placed  between  each  arch  to  discharge  the  double 
drainage  of  the  gables.  This  is  the  form  of  all  the  noble 
northern  porches,  without  exception,  best  represented  by  that 
of  Rheims. 

§  vm.  Contracted  conditions  of  the  pinnacle  porch  are 
beautifully  used  in  the  doors  of  the  cathedral  of  Florence  ; 
and  the  entire  arrangement,  in  its  most  perfect  form,  aa 
adapted  to  window  protection  and  decoration,  is  applied  by 
Giotto  with  inconceivable  exquisiteness  in  the  windows  of  the 
campanile  ;  those  of  the  cathedral  itself  being  all  of  the  same 


200  TEE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

type.  Various  singular  and  delightful  conditions  of  it  are 
applied  in  Italian  domestic  architecture  (in  the  Broletto  of 
Monza  very  quaintly),  being  associated  with  balconies  for 
speaking  to  the  people,  and  passing  into  pulpits.  In  the 
north  we  glaze  the  sides  of  such  projections,  and  they  become 
bow-windows,  the  shape  of  roofing  being  then  nearly  imma- 
terial and  very  fantastic,  often  a  conical  cap.  All  these  con- 
ditions of  window  protection,  being  for  real  service,  are  end- 
lessly delightful  (and  I  believe  the  beauty  of  the  balcony,  pro- 
tected by  an  open  canopy  supported  by  light  shafts,  never  yet 
to  have  been  properly  worked  out).  But  the  Kenaissance 
architects  destroyed  all  of  them,  and  introduced  the  magnifi- 
cent and  witty  Roman  invention  of  a  model  of  a  Greek  pedi- 
ment, with  its  cornices  of  monstrous  thickness,  bracketed 
up  above  the  window.  The  horizontal  cornice  of  the  pedi- 
ment is  thus  useless,  and  of  course,  therefore,  retained  ;  the 
protection  to  the  head  of  the  window  being  constructed  on 
the  principle  of  a  hat  with  its  crown  sewn  up.  But  the  deep 
and  dark  triangular  cavity  thug  obtained  affords  farther  op- 
portunity for  putting  ornament  out  of  sight,  of  which  the 
Renaissance  architects  are  not  slow  to  avail  themselves. 

A  more  rational  condition  is  the  complete  pediment  with 
a  couple  of  shafts,  or  pilasters,  carried  on  a  bracketed  sill  ; 
and  the  windows  of  this  kind,  which  have  been  well  designed, 
are  perhaps  the  best  things  which  the  Renaissance  schools 
have  produced :  those  of  Whitehall  are,  in  their  way,  ex- 
ceedingly beautiful  ;  and  those  of  the  Palazzo  Ricardi  at 
Florence,  in  their  simplicity  and  sublimity,  are  scarcely  un- 
worthy of  their  reputed  designer,  Michael  Angelo. 


CHAPTER  TCTX. 

•UPERIM POSITION. 


§  L  THE  reader  has  now  some  knowledge  of  every  feature 
of  all  possible  architecture.  Whatever  the  nature  of  the 
building  which  may  be  submitted  to  his  criticism,  if  it  be  an 
edifice  at  all,  if  it  be  anything  else  than  a  mere  heap  of  stonea 


8UPERIMP08ITION.  201 

fike  a  pyramid  or  breakwater,  or  than  a  large  stone  hewn  into 
shape,  like  an  obelisk,  it  will  be  instantly  and  easily  resolvable 
into  some  of  the  parts  which  we  have  been  hitherto  consider- 
ing :  its  pinnacles  will  separate  themselves  into  their  small 
shafts  and  roofs ;  its  supporting  members  into  shafts  and 
arches,  or  walls  penetrated  by  apertures  of  various  shape,  and 
supported  by  various  kinds  of  buttresses.  Bespecting  each 
of  these  several  features  I  am  certain  that  the  reader  feels 
himself  prepared,  by  understanding  their  plain  function,  to 
form  something  like  a  reasonable  and  definite  judgment, 
whether  they  be  good  or  bad  ;  and  this  right  judgment  of 
parts  will,  in  most  cases,  lead  him  to  just  reverence  or  con- 
demnation of  the  whole. 

§  n.  The  various  modes  in  which  these  parts  are  capable 
of  combination,  and  the  merits  of  buildings  of  different  form 
and  expression,  are  evidently  not  reducible  into  lists,  nor  to 
be  estimated  by  general  laws.  The  nobility  of  each  building 
depends  on  its  special  fitness  for  its  own  purposes  ;  and  these 
purposes  vary  with  every  climate,  every  soil,  and  every  national 
custom  :  nay,  there  were  never,  probably,  two  edifices  erected 
in  which  some  accidental  difference  of  condition  did  not 
require  some  difference  of  plan  or  of  structure ;  so  that; 
respecting  plan  and  distribution  of  parts,  I  do  not  hope  to 
collect  any  universal  law  of  right ;  but  there  are  a  few  points 
necessary  to  be  noticed  respecting  the  means  by  which  height 
is  attained  in  buildings  of  various  plans,  and  the  expediency 
and  methods  of  superimposition  of  one  story  or  tier  of  archi- 
tecture above  another. 

§  m.  For,  in  the  preceding  inquiry,  I  have  always  sup- 
posed either  that  a  single  shaft  would  reach  to  the  top  of  the 
building,  or  that  the  farther  height  required  might  be  added 
in  plain  wall  above  the  heads  of  the  arches  ;  whereas  it  may 
often  be  rather  expedient  to  complete  the  entire  lower  series 
of  arches,  or  finish  the  lower  wall,  with  a  bold  string  course 
or  cornice,  and  build  another  series  of  shafts,  or  another  wall, 
on  the  top  of  it. 

§  rv.  This  superimposition  is  seen  in  its  simplest  form  in 
the  interior  shafts  of  a  Greek  temple  ;  and  it  has  been  largejf 


202  THE  STONES  OF  VBN1CX. 

nsed  in  nearly  all  countries  where  buildings  have  been  meant 
for  real  service.  Outcry  has  often  been  raised  against  it,  but 
the  thing  is  so  sternly  necessary  that  it  has  always  forced  it- 
self into  acceptance ;  and  it  would,  therefore,  be  merely  losing 
time  to  refute  the  arguments  of  those  who  have  attempted  its 
disparagement.  Thus  far,  however,  they  have  reason  on  their 
side,  that  if  a  building  can  be  kept  in  one  grand  mass,  with- 
out sacrificing  either  its  visible  or  real  adaptation  to  its  ob 
jects,  it  is  not  well  to  divide  it  into  stories  until  it  has  reached 
proportions  too  large  to  be  justly  measured  by  the  eye.  It 
ought  then  to  be  divided  in  order  to  mark  its  bulk  ;  and 
decorative  divisions  are  often  possible,  which  rather  increase 
than  destroy  the  expression  of  general  unity. 

§  v.  Superimposition,  wisely  practised,  is  of  two  kinds,  di- 
rectly contrary  to  each  other,  of  weight  on  lightness,  and  of 
lightness  on  weight ;  while  the  superimposition  of  weight  on 
weight,  or  lightness  on  lightness,  is  nearly  always  wrong. 

1.  Weight  on  lightness  :  I  do  not  say  weight  on  weakness. 
The  superimposition  of  the  human  body  on  its  limbs  I  call 
weight  on  lightness  :  the  superimposition  of  the  branches  on 
a  tree  trunk  I  call  lightness  on  weight :  in  both  cases  the 
support  is  fully  adequate  to  the  work,  the  form  of  support 
being  regulated  by  the  differences  of  requirement.  Nothing 
in  architecture  is  half  so  painful  as  the  apparent  want  of  suf- 
ficient support  when  the  weight  above  is  visibly  passive  :  for 
all  buildings  are  not  passive  ;  some  seem  to  rise  by  their  own 
strength,  or  float  by  their  own  buoyancy  ;  a  dome  requires  no 
visibility  of  support,  one  fancies  it  supported  by  the  air.  But 
passive  architecture  without  help  for  its  passiveness  is  unen- 
durable. In  a  lately  built  house,  No.  86,  in  Oxford  Street, 
three  huge  stone  pillars  in  the  second  story  are  carried  ap- 
parently by  the  edges  of  three  sheets  of  plate  glass  in  the 
first.  I  hardly  know  anything  to  match  the  painfulness  of 
this  and  some  other  of  our  shop  structures,  in  which  the 
iron-work  is  concealed  ;  nor,  even  when  it  is  apparent,  can 
the  eye  ever  feel  satisfied  of  their  security,  when  built,  as  at 
present,  with  fifty  or  sixty  feet  of  wall  above  a  rod  of  iron  nof 
the  width  of  this  page. 


SUPERIMP08ITION.  203 

§  vi.  The  proper  forms  of  this  super-imposition  of  -weight 
on  lightness  have  arisen,  for  the  most  part,  from  the  neces- 
sity or  desirableness,  in  many  situations,  of  elevating  the  in- 
habited portions  of  buildings  considerably  above  the  ground 
level,  especially  those  exposed  to  damp  or  inundation,  and 
the  consequent  abandonment  of  the  ground  story  as  un- 
serviceable, or  else  the  surrender  of  it  to  public  purposes. 
Thus,  in  many  market  and  town  houses,  the  ground  story  is 
left  open  as  a  general  place  of  sheltered  resort,  and  the  en- 
closed apartments  raised  on  pillars.  In  almost  all  warm 
countries  the  luxury,  almost  the  necessity,  of  arcades  to  pro- 
tect the  passengers  from  the  sun,  and  the  desirableness  of 
large  space  in  the  rooms  above,  lead  to  the  same  construc- 
tion. Throughout  the  Venetian  islet  group,  the  houses  seem 
to  have  been  thus,  in  the  first  instance,  universally  built,  all 
the  older  palaces  appearing  to  have  had  the  rez  de  chaussee 
perfectly  open,  the  upper  parts  of  the  palace  being  sustained 
on  magnificent  arches,  and  tho  smaller  houses  sustained  in  the 
same  manner  on  wooden  piers,  still  retained  in  many  of  the 
cortiles,  and  exhibited  characteristically  throughout  the  main 
street  of  Murano.  As  ground  became  more  valuable  and 
house-room  more  scarce,  these  ground-floors  were  enclosed 
with  wall  veils  between  the  original  shafts,  and  so  remain  ; 
but  the  type  of  the  structure  of  the  entire  city  is  given  in  the 
Ducal  Palace. 

§  vii.  To  this  kind  of  superimposition  we  owe  the  most 
picturesque  street  effects  throughout  the  world,  and  the  most 
graceful,  as  well  as  the  most  grotesque,  buildings,  from  the 
many-shafted  fantasy  of  the  Alhambra  (a  building  as  beautiful 
in  disposition  as  it  is  base  in  ornamentation)  to  the  four-legged 
stolidity  of  the  Swiss  Chalet :  *  nor  these  only,  but  great  part 
of  the  effect  of  our  cathedrals,  in  which,  necessarily,  the  close 

*  I  have  spent  much  of  my  life  among  the  Alps;  but  I  never  pass,  with- 
out some  feeling  of  new  surprise,  the  Chalet,  standing  on  its  four  pegs 
(each  topped  with  a  flat  stone  >,  balanced  in  the  fury  of  Alpine  winds.  It  ii 
not,  perhaps,  generally  known  that  the  chief  use  of  the  arrangement  is  not 
BO  much  to  raise  the  building  above  the  snow,  as  to  get «  draught  of  wind 
Un«ath  it,  which  may  prevent  the  driit  from  ruing  against  iu  udM. 


204  THE  STONES  OF    VENICE. 

triforium  and  clerestory  walls  are  superimposed  on  the  navi 
piers  ;  perhaps  with  most  majesty  where  with  greatest  sim- 
plicity, as  in  the  old  basilican  types,  and  the  noble  cathedral 
of  Pisa. 

§  vm.  In  order  to  the  delightfulness  and  security  of  all 
•uch  arrangements,  this  law  must  be  observed  : — that  in  pro- 
portion to  the  height  of  wall  above  them,  the  shafts  are  to 
be  short.  You  may  take  your  given  height  of  wall,  and  turn 
any  quantity  of  that  wall  into  shaft  that  you  like  ;  but  you 
must  not  turn  it  all  into  tall  shafts,  and  then  put  more  wall 
above.  Thus,  having  a  house  five  stories  high,  you  may  turn 
the  lower  story  into  shafts,  and  leave  the  four  stories  in  wall ; 
or  the  two  lower  stories  into  shafts,  and  leave  three  in  wall ; 
but,  whatever  you  add  to  the  shaft,  you  must  take  from  the 
wall.  Then  also,  of  course,  the  shorter  the  shaft  the  thicker 
will  be  its  proportionate,  if  not  its  actual,  diameter.  In  the 
Ducal  Palace  of  Venice  the  shortest  shafts  are  always  thf 
thickest* 

§  ix.  The  second  kind  of  superimposition,  lightness  on 
weight,  is,  in  its  most  necessary  use,  of  stories  of  houses  one 
upon  another,  where,  of  course,  wall  veil  is  required  in  the 
lower  ones,  and  has  to  support  wall  veil  above,  aided  by  as 
much  of  shaft  structure  as  is  attainable  within  the  given 
limits.  The  greatest,  if  not  the  only,  merit  of  the  Roman 
and  Renaissance  Venetian  architects  is  their  graceful  manage- 
ment of  this  kind  of  superimposition  ;  sometimes  of  complete 
courses  of  external  arches  and  shafts  one  above  the  other  ; 
sometimes  of  apertures  with  intermediate  cornices  at  the  levels 
of  the  floors,  and  large  shafts  from  top  to  bottom  of  the  build- 
ing ;  always  observing  that  the  upper  stories  shall  be  at  once 
lighter  and  richer  than  the  lower  ones.  The  entire  value  of 
such  buildings  depends  upon  the  perfect  and  easy  expression 
of  the  relative  strength  of  the  stories,  and  the  unity  obtained 
by  the  varieties  of  their  proportions,  while  yet  the  fact  of 
superimposition  and  separation  by  floors  is  frankly  told. 

§  x.  In  churches  and  other  .buildings  in  which  there  is  no 
separation  by  floors,  another  kind  of  pure  shaft  superimpoaition 
*  Appendix  20,  "  Shafts  of  the  Ducal  Palac*. " 


BUPERIMPOSIT10N.  205 

is  often  used,  in  order  to  enable  the  builder  to  avail  himself  o! 
short  and  slender  shafts.  It  has  been  noted  that  these  are 
often  easily  attainable,  and  of  precious  materials,  when  shafts 
large  enough  and  strong  enough  to  do  the  work  at  once,  could 
not  be  obtained  except  at  unjustifiable  expense,  and  of  coarse 
stone.  The  architect  has  then  no  choice  but  to  arrange  his 
work  in  successive  stories  ;  either  frankly  completing  the  arch 
work  and  cornice  of  each,  and  beginning  a  new  story  above  it, 
which  is  the  honester  and  nobler  way,  or  else  tying  the  stories 
together  by  supplementary  shafts  from  floor  to  roof, — the 
general  practice  of  the  Nothern  Gothic,  and  one  which,  unless 
most  gracefully  managed,  gives  the  look  of  a  scaffolding,  with 
cross-poles  tied  to  its  uprights,  to  the  whole  clerestory  wall. 
The  best  method  is  that  which  avoids  all  chance  of  the  upright 
shafts  being  supposed  continuous,  by  increasing  their  number 
and  changing  their  places  in  the  upper  stories,  so  that  the 
whole  work  branches  from  the  ground  like  a  tree.  This  is  the 
superimposition  of  the  Byzantine  and  the  Pisan  Romanesque  ; 
the  most  beautiful  examples  of  it  being,  I  think,  the  Southern 
portico  of  St.  Mark's,  the  church  of  S.  Giovanni  at  Pistoja, 
and  the  apse  of  the  cathedral  of  Pisa.  In  Renaissance  work 
the  two  principles  are  equally  distinct,  though  the  shafts  are 
(I  think)  always  one  above  the  other.  The  reader  may  see  one 
of  the  best  examples  of  the  separately  superimposed  story  in 
Whitehall  (and  another  far  inferior  in  St.  Paul's),  and  by  turn- 
ing himself  round  at  Whitehall  may  compare  with  it  the  sys- 
tem of  connecting  shafts  in  the  Treasury  ;  though  this  is  a 
singularly  bad  example,  the  window  cornices  of  the  first  floor 
being  like  shelves  in  a  cupboard,  and  cutting  the  mass  of  the 
building  in  two,  in  spite  of  the  pillars. 

§  xi.  But  this  superimposition  of  lightness  on  weight  is 
still  more  distinctly  the  system  of  many  buildings  of  the  kind 
which  I  have  above  called  Architecture  of  Position,  that  is  to 
say,  architecture  of  which  the  greater  part  is  intended  merely 
to  keep  something  in  a  peculiar  position  ;  as  in  light-houses, 
and  many  towers  and  belfries.  The  subject  of  spire  and  tower 
architecture,  however,  is  so  interesting  and  extensive,  that  I 
«iave  thoughts  of  writing  a  detached  essay  upon  it,  and,  at  all 


206  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

events,  cannot  enter  upon  it  here  :  but  this  much  is  enough 
for  the  reader  to  note  for  our  present  purpose,  that,  although 
many  towers  do  in  reality  stand  on  piers  or  shafts,  as  the  cen- 
tral towers  of  cathedrals,  yet  the  expression  of  all  of  them, 
and  the  real  structure  of  the  best  and  strongest,  are  the  eleva- 
tion of  gradually  diminishing  weight  on  massy  or  even  solid 
foundation.  Nevertheless,  since  the  tower  is  in  its  origin  a 
building  for  strength  of  defence,  and  faithfulness  of  watch, 
rather  than  splendor  of  aspect,  its  true  expression  is  of  just  so 
much  diminution  of  weight  upwards  as  may  be  necessary  to 
its  fully  balanced  strength,  not  a  jot  more.  There  must  be 
no  light- headedness  in  your  noble  tower  :  impregnable  founda- 
tion, wrathful  crest,  with  the  vizor  down,  and  the  dark  vigil- 
ance seen  through  the  clefts  of  it ;  not  the  filigree  crown  or 
embroidered  cap.  No  towers  are  so  grand  as  the  square- 
browed  ones,  with  massy  cornices  and  rent  battlements  :  next 
to  these  come  the  fantastic  towers,  with  their  various  forms 
of  steep  roof ;  the  best,  not  the  cone,  but  the  plain  gable 
thrown  very  high ;  last  of  all  in  my  mind  (of  good  towers), 
those  with  spires  or  crowns,  though  these,  of  course,  are  fittest 
for  ecclesiastical  purposes,  and  capable  of  the  richest  orna- 
ment The  paltry  four  or  eight  pinnacled  things  we  call 
towers  in  England  (as  in  York  Minster),  are  mere  confec- 
tioner's Gothic,  and  not  worth  classing. 

§  xn.  But,  in  all  of  them,  this  I  believe  to  be  a  point  of 
•hief  necessity, — that  they  shall  seem  to  stand,  and  shall  verily 
stand,  in  their  own  strength  ;  not  by  help  of  buttresses  nor 
artful  balancings  on  this  side  and  on  thai  Your  noble  tower 
must  need  no  help,  must  be  sustained  by  no  crutches,  must 
give  place  to  no  suspicion  of  decrepitude.  Its  office  may  be 
to  withstand  war,  look  forth  for  tidings,  or  to  point  to  heaven  : 
but  it  must  have  in  its  own  walls  the  strength  to  do  this ;  it  is 
to  be  itself  a  bulwark,  not  to  be  sustained  by  other  bulwarks ; 
to  rise  and  look  forth,  "  the  tower  of  Lebanon  that  looketh 
toward  Damascus,"  like  a  stern  sentinel,  not  like  a  child  held 
up  in  its  nurse's  arms.  A  tower  may,  indeed,  have  a  kind  of 
buttress,  a  projection,  or  subordinate  tower  at  each  of  its 
angles  ;  but  these  are  to  its  main  body  like  the  satellites  to  a 


PLATE  VI. — TYPES  OF  TOWER*. 


BUPERIMPOS1TION.  201 

shaft,  joined  with  its  strength,  and  associated  in  its  upright 
ness,  part  of  the  tower  itself :  exactly  in  the  proportion  in 
which  they  lose  their  massive  unity  with  its  body  and  assume 
the  form  of  true  buttress  walls  set  on  its  angles,  the  tower 
loses  its  dignity. 

§  xm.  These  two  characters,  then,  are  common  to  all  noble 
towers,  however  otherwise  different  in  purpose  or  feature, — 
the  first,  that  they  rise  from  massy  foundation  to  lighter  sum- 
mits, frowning  with  battlements  perhaps,  but  yet  evidently 
more  pierced  and  thinner  in  wall  than  beneath,  and,  in  most 
ecclesiastical  examples,  divided  into  rich  open  work  :  the  sec- 
ond, that  whatever  the  form  of  the  tower,  it  shall  not  appear 
to  stand  by  help  of  buttresses.  It  follows  from  the  first  con- 
dition, as  indeed  it  would  have  followed  from  ordinary  aesthetic 
requirements,  that  we  shall  have  continual  variation  in  the 
arrangements  of  the  stories,  and  the  larger  number  of  aper- 
tures towards  the  top, — a  condition  exquisitely  carried  out  in 
the  old  Lombardic  towers,  in  which,  however  small  they  may 
be,  the  number  of  apertures  is  always  regularly  increased  to- 
wards the  summit ;  generally  one  window  in  the  lowest  stories, 
two  in  the  second,  then  three,  five,  and  six  ;  often,  also,  one, 
two,  four,  and  six,  with  beautiful  symmetries  of  placing,  not 
at  present  to  our  purpose.  We  may  sufficiently  exemplify  the 
general  laws  of  tower  building  by  placing  side  by  side,  drawn 
to  the  same  scale,  a  mediaeval  tower,  in  which  most  of  them 
are  simply  and  unaffectedly  observed,  and  one  of  our  own 
modern  towers,  in  which  every  one  of  them  is  violated,  in 
small  space,  convenient  for  comparison.  (Plate  VL) 

§  xiv.  The  old  tower  is  that  of  Si  Mark's  at  Venice,  not  a 
very  perfect  example,  for  its  top  is  Renaissance,  but  as  good 
Renaissance  as  there  is  in  Venice  ;  and  it  is  fit  for  our  present 
purpose,  because  it  owes  none  of  its  effect  to  ornament  It  is 
built  as  simply  as  it  well  can  be  to  answer  its  purpose :  no 
buttresses  ;  no  external  features  whatever,  except  some  huta 
at  the  base,  and  the  loggia,  afterwards  built,  which,  on  pur- 
pose, I  have  not  drawn  ;  one  bold  square  mass  of  brickwork  ,* 
double  walls,  with  an  ascending  inclined  plane  between  them, 
with  apertures  as  small  u»  possible,  and  these  only  in  neoea* 


208  TEE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

sary  places,  giving  just  the  light  required  for  ascending  the 
stair  or  slope,  not  a  ray  more  ;  and  the  weight  of  the  whole 
relieved  only  by  the  double  pilasters  on  the  sides,  sustaining 
small  arches  at  the  top  of  the  mass,  each  decorated  with  the 
scallop  or  cockle  shell,  presently  to  be  noticed  as  frequent  in 
Renaissance  ornament,  and  here,  for  once,  thoroughly  well 
applied.  Then,  when  the  necessary  height  is  reached,  the 
belfry  is  left  open,  as  in  the  ordinary  Romanesque  campanile, 
only  the  shafts  more  slender,  but  severe  and  simple,  and  the 
whole  crowned  by  as  much  spire  as  the  tower  would  carry, 
to  render  it  more  serviceable  as  a  landmark.  The  arrange- 
ment is  repeated  in  numberless  campaniles  throughout 
Italy. 

§  xv.  The  one  beside  it  is  one  of  those  of  the  lately  built 
college  at  Edinburgh.  I  have  not  taken  it  as  worse  than  many 
others  (just  as  I  have  not  taken  the  St.  Mark's  tower  as  better 
than  many  others)  ;  but  it  happens  to  compress  our  British 
system  of  tower  building  into  small  space.  The  Venetian 
tower  rises  350  feet,*  and  has  no  buttresses,  though  built  of 
brick  ;  the  British  tower  rises  121  feet,  and  is  built  of  stone, 
but  is  supposed  to  be  incapable  of  standing  without  two  huge 
buttresses  on  each  angle.  The  St.  Mark's  tower  has  a  high 
sloping  roof,  but  carries  it  simply,  requiring  no  pinnacles  at 
its  angles  ;  the  British  tower  has  no  visible  roof,  but  has  four 
pinnacles  for  mere  ornament.  The  Venetian  tower  has  its 
lightest  part  at  the  top,  and  is  massy  at  the  base  ;  the  British 
tower  has  its  lightest  part  at  the  base,  and  shuts  up  its  win- 
dows into  a  mere  arrowslit  at  the  top.  What  the  tower  was 
built  for  at  all  must  therefore,  it  seems  to  me,  remain  a  mys- 
tery to  every  beholder ;  for  surely  no  studious  inhabitant  of 
its  upper  chambers  will  be  conceived  to  be  pursuing  his  em- 
ployments by  the  light  of  the  single  chink  on  each  side  ;  and, 
had  it  been  intended  for  a  belfry,  the  sound  of  its  bells  would 

*  I  have  taken  "Professor  Willis's  estimate  ;  there  heing  discrepancy 
among  various  statements.  I  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  measure  thv 
height  myself,  the  building  being  one  which  does  not  come  within  the 
range  of  our  future  inquiries  ;  and  its  exact  dimensions,  evea  here,  an* 
•f  no  importance  as  respects  the  question  at  issue. 


8UPERIMPOSITION.  209- 

have  been  as  effectually  prevented  from  getting  out,  as  the 
light  from  getting  in. 

§  xvi.  In  connexion  with  the  subject  of  towers  and  of  su- 
perimposition,  one  other  feature,  not  conveniently  to  be 
omitted  from  our  house-building,  requires  a  moment's  notice, 
— the  staircase. 

In  modern  houses  it  can  hardly  be  considered  an  architect- 
ural feature,  and  is  nearly  always  an  ugly  one,  from  its  being 
apparently  without  support.  And  here  I  may  not  unfitly  note 
the  important  distinction,  which  perhaps  ought  to  have  been 
dwelt  upon  in  some  places  before  now,  between  the  marvellous 
and  the  perilous  in  apparent  construction.  There  are  many 
edifices  which  are  awful  or  admirable  in  their  height,  and 
lightness,  and  boldness  of  form,  respecting  which,  neverthe- 
less, we  have  no  fear  that  they  should  fall.  Many  a  mighty 
dome  and  aerial  aisle  and  arch  may  seem  to  stand,  as  I  said, 
by  miracle,  but  by  steadfast  miracle  notwithstanding  ;  there 
is  no  fear  that  the  miracle  should  cease.  We  have  a  sense  of 
inherent  power  in  them,  or,  at  all  events,  of  concealed  and 
mysterious  provision  for  their  safety.  But  in  leaning  towers, 
as  of  Pisa  or  Bologna,  and  in  much  minor  architecture,  pas- 
sive architecture,  of  modern  times,  we  feel  that  there  is  but  a 
chance  between  the  building  and  destruction  ;  that  there  is  no 
miraculous  life  in  it,  which  animates  it  into  security,  but  an 
obstinate,  perhaps  vain,  resistance  to  immediate  danger.  The 
appearance  of  this  is  often  as  strong  in  small  things  as  in 
large  ;  in  the  sounding-boards  of  pulpits,  for  instance,  when 
sustained  by  a  single  pillar  behind  them,  so  that  one  is  in 
dread,  during  the  whole  sermon,  of  the  preacher  being  crushed 
if  a  single  nail  should  give  way  ;  and  again,  the  modern  geo- 
metrical unsupported  staircase.  There  is  great  disadvantage, 
alao,  in  the  arrangement  of  this  latter,  when  room  is  of  value  ; 
and  excessive  ungracefulness  in  its  awkward  divisions  of  the 
passage  walls,  or  windows.  In  mediaeval  architecture,  where 
there  was  need  of  room,  the  staircase  was  spiral,  and  enclosed 
generally  in  an  exterior  tower,  which  added  infinitely  to  the 
picturesque  effect  of  the  building ;  nor  was  the  stair  itself 
steeper  nor  less  commodious  than  the  ordinary  compressed 
VOL.  I.— 14 


THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

straight  staircase  of  a  modern  dwelling-house.  Many  of  tha 
richest  towel's  of  domestic  architecture  owe  their  origin  to 
this  arrangement.  In  Italy  the  staircase  is  often  in  the  open 
air,  surrounding  the  interior  court  of  the  house,  and  giving 
access  to  its  various  galleries  or  loggias  :  in  this  case  it  is  al- 
most always  supported  by  bold  shafts  and  arches,  and  forma 
a  most  interesting  additional  feature  of  the  cortile,  but  pre- 
sents no  peculiarity  of  construction  requiring  our  present  ex- 
amination. 

We  may  here,  therefore,  close  our  inquiries  into  the  sub- 
ject of  construction  ;  nor  must  the  reader  be  dissatisfied  with 
the  simplicity  or  apparent  barrenness  of  their  present  results, 
He  will  find,  when  he  begins  to  apply  them,  that  they  are  of 
more  value  than  they  now  seem  ;  but  I  have  studiously  avoided 
letting  myself  be  drawn  into  any  intricate  question,  because  I 
wished  to  ask  from  the  reader  only  so  much  attention  as  it 
seemed  that  even  the  most  indifferent  would  not  be  unwilling 
to  pay  to  a  subject  which  is  hourly  becoming  of  greater  prac- 
tical interest.  Evidently  it  would  have  been  altogether  beside 
the  purpose  of  this  essay  to  have  entered  deeply  into  the  ab- 
stract science,  or  closely  into  the  mechanical  detail,  of  con- 
struction :  both  have  been  illustrated  by  writers  far  more 
capable  of  doing  so  than  I,  and  may  be  studied  at  the  reader's 
discretion  ;  all  that  has  been  here  endeavored  was  the  leading 
him  to  appeal  to  something  like  definite  principle,  and  refer 
to  the  easily  intelligible  laws  of  convenience  and  necessity, 
whenever  he  found  his  judgment  likely  to  be  overborne  by 
authority  on  the  one  hand,  or  dazzled  by  novelty  on  the  other. 
If  he  has  time  to  do  more,  and  to  follow  out  in  all  their  brill- 
iancy the  mechanical  inventions  of  the  great  engineers  and 
architects  of  the  day,  I,  in  some  sort,  envy  him,  but  must  part 
company  with  him  :  for  my  way  lies  not  along  the  viaduct* 
but  down  the  quiet  valley  which  its  arches  cross,  nor  through 
the  tunnel,  but  up  the  hill-side  which  its  cavern  darkens,  to 
aee  what  gifts  Nature  will  give  us,  and  with  what  imagery  she 
will  fill  our  thoughts,  that  the  stones  we  have  ranged  in  rude 
order  may  now  be  touched  with  life  ;  nor  lose  for  erer,  in 
their  hewn  nakedness,  tiie  voices  they  had  of  old,  wkeu  th* 


THE  MATERIAL   Of1  ORNAMENT.  21! 

valley  streamlet  eddied  round  them  in  palpitating  light,  and 
the  winds  of  the  hill-side  shook  over  them  the  shadows  of  tha 
fern. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  MATERIAL  OF   ORNAMENT. 

§  L  WE  enter  now  on  the  second  division  of  our  subject 
We  have  no  more  to  do  with  heavy  stones  and  hard  lines  ;  we 
are  going  to  be  happy  :  to  look  round  in  the  world  and  dis- 
cover (in  a  serious  manner  always,  however,  and  under  a  sense 
of  responsibility)  what  we  like  best  in  it,  and  to  enjoy  the  same 
at  our  leisure  :  to  gather  it,  examine  it,  fasten  all  we  can  of  it 
into  imperishable  forms,  and  put  it  where  wo  may  see  it  for 
ever. 

This  is  to  decorate  architecture. 

§  n.  There  are,  therefore,  three  steps  in  the  process  :  first, 
to  find  out  in  a  grave  manner  what  we  like  best ;  secondly, 
to  put  as  much  of  this  as  we  can  (which  is  little  enough)  into 
form ;  thirdly,  to  put  this  formed  abstraction  into  a  proper 
place. 

And  we  have  now,  therefore,  to  make  these  three  inquiries 
in  succession  first,  what  we  like,  or  what  is  the  right  material 
of  ornament ;  then  how  we  are  to  present  it,  or  its  right  treat- 
ment ;  then,  where  we  are  to  put  it,  or  its  right  place.  I  think 
I  can  answer  that  first  inquiry  in  this  Chapter,  the  second  in- 
quiry in  the  next  Chapter,  and  the  third  I  shall  answer  in  a 
more  diffusive  manner,  by  taking  up  in  succession  the  several 
parts  of  architecture  above  distinguished,  and  rapidly  noting 
the  kind  of  ornament  fittest  for  each. 

§  m.  I  said  in*>chapter  IL  §  xiv.,  that  all  noble  ornamenta- 
tion was  the  expression  of  man's  delight  in  God's  work.  This 
implied  that  there  was  an  ignoble  ornamentation,  which  was 
the  expression  of  man's  delight  in  his  own.  There  is  such  a 
school,  chiefly  degraded  classic  and  Kenaissance,  in  which  the 
ornament  is  composed  of  imitations  of  things  made  by  man.  I 
think,  before  inquiring  what  we  like  best  of  God's  work,  w« 

Stones  of  Venice— Vol.  L— Hi 


212  THE  STONES  Of  VENICE. 

had  better  get  rid  of  all  this  imitation  of  man's,  and  be  quite 
sure  we  do  not  like  that. 

§  iv.  We  shall  rapidly  glance,  then,  at  the  material  of  deco- 
ration hence  derived.  And  now  I  cannot,  as  I  before  have 
done  respecting  construction,  convince  the  reader  of  one  thing 
being  wrong,  and  another  right.  I  have  confessed  as  much 
again  and  again  ;  I  am  now  only  to  make  appeal  to  him,  and 
cross-question  him,  whether  he  really  does  like  things  or  not. 
If  he  likes  the  ornament  on  the  base  of  the  column  of  the  Place 
Vendome,  composed  of  Wellington  boots  and  laced  frock  coats, 
I  cannot  help  it ;  I  can  only  say  I  differ  from  him,  and  don't 
like  it.  And  if,  therefore,  I  speak  dictatorially,  and  say  this 
is  base,  or  degraded,  or  ugly,  I  mean  only  that  I  believe  men 
of  the  longest  experience  in  the  matter  would  either  think  it 
so,  or  would  be  prevented  from  thinking  it  so  only  by  some 
morbid  condition  of  their  minds  ;  and  I  believe  that  the  reader, 
if  he  examine  himself  candidly,  will  usually  agree  in  my 
statements. 

§  v.  The  subjects  of  ornament  found  in  man's  work  maj 
properly  fall  in  to  four  heads  :  1.  Instruments  of  art,  agriculture, 
and  war ;  armor,  and  dress  ;  2.  Drapery ;  3.  Shipping ;  4. 
Architecture  itself. 

1.  Instruments,  armor,  and  dress. 

The  custom  of  raising  trophies  on  pillars,  and  of  dedicating 
arms  in  temples,  appears  to  have  first  suggested  the  idea  of 
employing  them  as  the  subjects  of  sculptural  ornament : 
thenceforward,  this  abuse  has  been  chiefly  characteristic  of 
classical  architecture,  whether  true  or  Renaissance.  Armor  is 
a  noble  thing  in  its  proper  service  and  subordination  to  the 
body  ;  so  is  an  animal's  hide  on  its  back  ;  but  a  heap  of  cast 
skins,  or  of  shed  armor,  is  alike  unworthy  of  all  regard  or  imi- 
tation. We  owe  much  true  sublimity,  and  more  of  delightful 
picturesqueness,  to  the  introduction  of  armor  both  in  painting 
and  sculpture  :  in  poetry  it  is  better  still, — Homer's  undressed 
Achilles  is  less  grand  than  his  crested  and  shielded  Achilles, 
though  Phidias  would  rather  have  had  him  naked  ;  in  all  medi- 
reval  painting,  arms,  like  all  other  parts  of  costume,  are  treated 
with  exquisite  care  and  delight ;  in  the  designs  of  Leonardo^ 


THE  MATERIAL   OF  ORNAMENT.  213 

Raffdelle,  and  Perugino,  the  armor  sometimes  becomes  almost 
too  conspicuous  from  the  rich  and  endless  invention  bestowed 
upon  it ;  while  Titian  and  Rubens  seek  in  its  flash  what  the 
Milanese  and  Perugian  sought  in  its  form,  sometimes  subordi- 
nating heroism  to  the  light  of  the  steel,  while  the  great 
designers  wearied  themselves  in  its  elaborate  fancy. 

But  all  this  labor  was  given  to  the  living,  not  the  dead 
armor  ;  to  the  shell  with  its  animal  in  it,  not  the  cast  shell  of 
the  beach  ;  and  even  so,  it  was  introduced  more  sparingly  by 
the  good  sculptors  than  the  good  painters  ;  for  the  former 
felt,  and  with  justice,  that  the  painter  had  the  power  of  con- 
quering the  over  prominence  of  costume  by  the  expression 
and  color  of  the  countenance,  and  that  by  the  darkness  of  the 
eye,  and  glow  of  the  cheek,  he  could  always  conquer  the  gloom 
and  the  flash  of  the  mail ;  but  they  could  hardly,  by  any 
boldness  or  energy  of  the  marble  features,  conquer  the  for- 
wardness and  conspicuousness  of  the  sharp  armorial  forms. 
Their  armed  figures  were  therefore  almost  always  subordi- 
nate, their  principal  figures  draped  or  naked,  and  their  choice 
of  subject  was  much  influenced  by  this  feeliug  of  necessity. 
But  the  Renaissance  sculptors  displayed  the  love  of  a  Camilla 
for  the  mere  crest  and  plume.  Paltry  and  false  alike  in  every 
feeling  of  their  narrowed  minds,  they  attached  themselves,  not 
only  to  costume  without  the  person,  but  to  the  pettiest  de- 
tails of  the  costume  itself.  They  could  not  describe  Achilles, 
but  they  could  describe  his  shield ;  a  shield  like  those  of 
dedicated  spoil,  without  a  handle,  never  to  be  waved  in  the 
face  of  war.  And  then  we  have  helmets  and  lances,  banners 
and  swords,  sometimes  with  men  to  hold  them,  sometimes 
without ;  but  always  chiselled  with  a  tailor-like  love  of  the 
chasing  or  the  embroidery, — show  helmets  of  the  stage,  no 
Vulcan  work  on  them,  no  heavy  hammer  strokes,  no  Etna  fire 
In  the  metal  of  them,  nothing  but  pasteboard  crests  and  high 
feathers.  And  these,  cast  together  in  disorderly  heaps,  or 
grinning  vacantly  over  key-stones,  form  one  of  the  leading 
decorations  of  Renaissance  architecture,  and  that  one  of  the 
best ;  for  helmets  and  lances,  however  loosely  laid,  are  better 
than  violins,  and  pipes,  and  books  of  music,  which  were 


THE  8T01TES  OF   VENICE. 

another  of  the  Palladian  and  Sansovinian  sources  of  orna- 
ment. Supported  by  ancient  authority,  the  abuse  soon  be' 
came  a  matter  of  pride,  and  since  it  was  easy  to  copy  a  heap 
of  cast  clothes,  but  difficult  to  manage  an  arranged  design  of 
human  figures,  the  indolence  of  architects  came  to  the  aid  of 
their  affectation,  until  by  the  moderns  we  find  the  practice 
carried  out  to  its  most  interesting  results,  and,  as  above 
noted,  a  large  pair  of  boots  occupying  the  principal  place  in 
the  bas-reliefs  on  the  base  of  the  Colonne  Vendome. 

§  vi.  A  less  offensive,  because  singularly  grotesque,  ex- 
ample of  the  abuse  at  its  height,  occurs  in  the  Hotel  des  In- 
valides,  where  the  dormer  windows  are  suits  of  armor  down 
to  the  bottom  of  the  corselet,  crowned  by  the  helmet,  and 
with  the  window  in  the  middle  of  the  breast. 

Instruments  of  agriculture  and  the  arts  are  of  less  frequent 
occurrence,  except  in  hieroglyphics,  and  other  work,  where 
they  are  not  employed  as  ornaments,  but  represented  for  the 
sake  of  accurate  knowledge,  or  as  symbols.  Wherever  they 
have  purpose  of  this  kind,  they  are 'of  course  perfectly  right ; 
but  they  are  then  part  of  the  building's  conversation,  not  con- 
ducive to  its  beauty.  The  French  have  managed,  with  great 
dexterity,  the  representation  of  the  machinery  for  the  eleva- 
tion of  their  Luxor  obelisk,  now  sculptured  on  its  base. 

§  vn.  2.  Drapery.  I  have  already  spoken  of  the  error  of 
introducing  drapery,  as  such,  for  ornament,  in  the  "  Seven 
Lamps."  I  may  here  note  a  curious  instance  of  the  abuse  in 
the  church  of  the  Jesuiti  at  Venice  (Renaissance).  On  first 
entering  you  suppose  that  the  church,  being  in  a  poor  quarter 
of  the  city,  has  been  somewhat  meanly  decorated  by  heavy 
green  and  white  curtains  of  an  ordinary  upholsterer's  pat- 
tern :  on  looking  closer,  they  are  discovered  to  be  of  marblej 
with  the  green  pattern  inlaid.  Another  remarkable  instance 
is  in  a  piece  of  not  altogether  unworthy  architecture  at  Paris 
(Rue  Rivoli),  where  the  columns  are  supposed  to  be  decorated 
with  images  of  handkerchiefs  tied  in  a  stout  knot  round  the 
middle  of  them.  This  shrewd  invention  bids  fair  to  become  a 
new  order.  Multitudes  of  massy  curtains  and  various  uphol- 
etery,  more  or  leas  in  imitation  o/  that  of  the  drawing-room. 


THE  MATERIAL    OF  ORNAMENT.  215 

are  carved  and  gilt,  in  wood  or  stone,  about  the  altars  and 
other  theatrical  portions  of  Komanist  churches  ;  but  from 
these  coarse  and  senseless  vulgarities  we  may  well  turn,  in  all 
haste,  to  note,  with  respect  as  well  as  regret,  one  of  the  errors 
of  the  great  school  of  Niccolo  Pisano, — an  error  so  full  of 
feeling  as  to  be  sometimes  all  but  redeemed,  and  altogether 
forgiven, — the  sculpture,  namely,  of  curtains  around  the  re- 
cumbent statues  upon  tombs,  curtains  which  angels  are  rep- 
resented as  withdrawing,  to  gaze  upon  the  faces  of  those  who 
are  at  rest.  For  some  time  the  idea  was  simply  and  slightly 
expressed,  and  though  there  was  always  a  painfulness  in  find- 
ing the  shafts  of  stone,  which  were  felt  to  be  the  real  support- 
ers of  the  canopy,  represented  as  of  yielding  drapery,  yet  the 
beauty  of  the  angelic  figures,  and  the  tenderness  of  the 
thought,  disarmed  all  animadversion.  But  the  scholars  of  the 
Pisani,  as  usual,  caricatured  when  they  were  unable  to  invent ; 
and  the  quiet  curtained  canopy  became  a  huge  marble  tent, 
with  a  pole  in  the  centre  of  it.  Thus  vulgarised,  the  idea 
itself  soon  disappeared,  to  make  room  for  urns,  torches,  and 
weepers,  and  the  other  modern  paraphernalia  of  the  church- 
yard. 

§  vm.  3.  Shipping.  I  have  allowed  this  kind  of  subject  to 
form  a  separate  head,  owing  to  the  importance  of  rostra  in 
Roman  decoration,  and  to  the  continual  occurrence  of  naval 
subjects  in  modern  monumental  bas-relief.  Mr.  Fergusaon 
says,  somewhat  doubtfully,  that  he  perceives  a  "  kind  of 
beauty  "  in  a  ship  :  I  say,  without  any  manner  of  doubt,  that 
a  ship  is  one  of  the  loveliest  things  man  ever  made,  and  one  of 
the  noblest ;  nor  do  I  know  any  lines,  out  of  divine  work,  so 
lovely  as  those  of  the  head  of  a  ship,  or  even  as  the  sweep  of 
the  timbers  of  a  small  boat,  not  a  race  boat,  a  mere  floating 
chisel,  but  a  broad,  strong,  sea  boat,  able  to  breast  a  wave  and 
break  it :  and  yet,  with  all  this  beauty,  ships  cannot  be  made 
subjects  of  sculpture.  No  one  pauses  in  particular  delight 
beneath  the  pediments  of  the  Admiralty  ;  nor  does  scenery  of 
shipping  ever  become  prominent  in  bas-relief  without  destroy- 
ing it :  witness  the  base  of  the  Nelson  pillar.  It  may  be,  and 
must  be  sometimes,  introduced  in  severe  subordination  to  tb* 


216  THE  STONES  OP   VENICE. 

figure  subject,  but  just  enough  to  indicate  the  scene  ;  sketched 
in  the  lightest  lines  on  the  background ;  never  with  any  at- 
tempt at  realisation,  never  with  any  equality  to  the  force  of 
the  figures,  unless  the  whole  purpose  of  the  subject  be  pictu- 
resque. I  shall  explain  this  exception  presently,  in  speaking 
of  imitative  architecture. 

§  ix.  There  is  one  piece  of  a  ship's  fittings,  however,  which 
may  be  thought  to  have  obtained  acceptance  as  a  constant 
element  of  architectural  ornament, — the  cable  :  it  is  not,  how- 
ever, the  cable  itself,  but  its  abstract  form,  a  group  of  twisted 
lines  (which  a  cable  only  exhibits  in  common  with  many  natu- 
ral objects),  which  is  indeed  beautiful  as  an  ornament.  Make 
the  resemblance  complete,  give  to  the  stone  the  threads  and 
character  of  the  cable,  and  you  may,  perhaps,  regard  the 
sculpture  with  curiosity,  but  never  more  with  admiration. 
Consider  the  effect  of  the  base  of  the  statue  of  King  William 
IV.  at  the  end  of  London  Bridge. 

§  x.  4.  Architecture  itself.  The  erroneous  use  of  armor,  or 
dress,  or  instruments,  or  shipping,  as  decorative  subject,  is 
almost  exclusively  confined  to  bad  architecture — Roman  or 
Renaissance.  But  the  false  use  of  architecture  itself,  as  an 
ornament  of  architecture,  is  conspicuous  even  in  the  mediaeval 
work  of  the  best  times,  and  is  a  grievous  fault  in  some  of  its 
noblest  examples. 

It  is,  therefore,  of  great  importance  to  note  exactly  at  what 
point  this  abuse  begins,  and  in  what  it  consists. 

§  xi.  In  all  bas-relief,  architecture  may  be  introduced  as  an 
explanation  of  the  scene  in  which  the  figures  act ;  but  with 
more  or  less  prominence  in  the  inverse  ratio  of  the  importance 
of  the  figures. 

The  metaphysical  reason  of  this  is,  that  where  the  figures 
are  of  great  value  and  beauty,  the  mind  is  supposed  to  be  en- 
gaged wholly  with  them  ;  and  it  is  an  impertinence  to  disturb 
its  contemplation  of  them  by  any  minor  features  whatever. 
As  the  figures  become  of  less  value,  and  are  regarded  witk  less 
intensity,  accessory  subjects  may  be  introduced,  such  as  the 
thoughts  may  have  leisure  for. 

Thus,  if  the  figures  be  as  large  as  life,  and  complete  statues; 


THE  MATERIAL   OF  ORNAMEXT.  217 

ft  is  gross  vulgarity  to  carve  a  temple  above  them,  or  distribute 
them  over  sculptured  rocks,  or  lead  them  up  steps  into  pyra- 
mids :  I  need  hardly  instance  Canova's  works,*  and  the  Dutch 
pulpit  groups,  with  fishermen,  boats,  and  nets,  in  the  midst 
of  church  navea 

If  the  figures  be  in  bas-relief,  though  as  large  as  life,  the 
scene  may  be  explained  by  lightly  traced  outlines  :  this  is  ad- 
mirably done  in  the  Ninevite  marbles. 

If  the  figures  be  in  bas-relief,  or  even  alto-relievo,  but  less 
than  life,  and  if  their  purpose  is  rather  to  enrich  a  space  and 
produce  picturesque  shadows,  than  to  draw  the  thoughts  en- 
tirely to  themselves,  the  scenery  in  which  they  act  may  become 
prominent.  The  most  exquisite  examples  of  this  treatment  are 
the  gates  of  Ghiberti.  What  would  that  Madonna  of  the  An- 
nunciation be,  without  the  little  shrine  into  which  she  shrinks 
back  ?  But  all  mediaeval  work  is  full  of  delightful  examples 
of  the  same  kind  of  treatment  :  the  gates  of  hell  and  of  para- 
dise are  important  pieces,  both  of  explanation  and  effect,  in 
all  early  representations  of  the  last  judgment,  or  of  the  de- 
scent into  Hades.  The  keys  of  St.  Peter,  and  the  crushing 
flat  of  the  devil  under  his  own  door,  when  it  is  beaten  in, 
would  hardly  be  understood  without  the  respective  gateways 
above.  The  best  of  all  the  later  capitals  of  the  Ducal  Palace 
of  Venice  depends  for  great  part  of  its  value  on  the  richness 
of  a  small  campanile,  which  is  pointed  to  proudly  by  a  small 
emperor  in  a  turned-up  hat,  who,  the  legend  informs  us,  is 
"  Numa  Pompilio,  imperador,  edifichador  di  tempi  e  chiese." 

§  xn.  Shipping  may  be  introduced,  or  rich  fancy  of  vest- 
ments, crowns,  and  ornaments,  exactly  on  the  same  conditions 
as  architecture  ;  and  if  the  reader  will  look  back  to  my  defi- 
nition of  the  picturesque  in  the  "  Seven  Lamps,"  he  will  see 
why  I  said,  above,  that  they  might  only  be  prominent  when  the 
purpose  of  the  subject  was  partly  picturesque  ;  that  is  to  say, 
when  the  mind  is  intended  to  derive  part  of  its  enjoyment 
from  the  parasitical  qualities  and  accidents  of  the  thing,  not 
from  the  heart  of  the  thing  itself. 

*  The  admiration  of  CanovaT  hold  to  be  one  of  the  most  deadly  symp 
toms  in  the  civilisation  of  the  upper  classes  in  the  present  century. 


218  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

And  thus,  while  we  must  regret  the  flapping  sails  in  the 
death  of  Nelson  in  Trafalgar  Square,  we  may  yet  most  heartily 
enjoy  the  sculpture  of  a  storm  in  one  of  the  has  -reliefs  of  the 
tomb  of  St.  Pietro  Martire  in  the  church  of  St.  Eustorgio  at 
Milan,  where  the  grouping  of  the  figures  is  most  fancifully 
complicated  by  the  under-cut  cordage  of  the  vessel. 

§  xin.  In  all  these  instances,  however,  observe  that  the  per- 
mission to  represent  the  human  work  as  an  ornament,  is  con- 
ditional on  its  being  necessary  to  the  representation  of  a 
scene,  or  explanation  of  an  action.  On  no  terms  whatever 
could  any  such  subject  be  independently  admissible. 

Observe,  therefore,  the  use  of  manufacture  as  ornament  is — 

1.  With  heroic  figure  sculpture,  not  admissible  at  alL 

2.  With  picturesque  figure  sculpture,  admissible  in  the  de- 

gree of  its  picturesqueness. 

3.  Without  figure  sculpture,  not  admissible  at  all 

So  also  in  painting  :  Michael  Angelo,  in  the  Sistine  Chapel, 
would  not  have  willingly  painted  a  dress  of  figured  damask  or 
of  watered  satin  ;  his  was  heroic  painting,  not  admitting  ac- 
cessories. 

Tintoret,  Titian,  Veronese,  Rubens,  and  Vandyck,  would 
be  very  sorry  to  part  with  their  figured  stuffs  and  lustrous 
silks  ;  and  sorry,  observe,  exactly  in  the  degree  of  their  pict- 
uresque feeling.  Should  not  we  also  be  sorry  to  have  Bishop 
Ambrose  without  his  vest,  in  that  picture  of  the  National  Gal- 
lery? 

But  I  think  Vandyck  would  not  have  liked,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  vest  without  the  bishop.  I  much  doubt  if  Titian  or 
Veronese  would  have  enjoyed  going  into  Waterloo  House,  and 
making  studies  of  dresses  upon  the  counter. 

§  xrv.  So,  therefore,  finally,  neither  architecture  nor  any 
other  human  work  is  admissible  as  an  ornament,  except  in 
subordination  to  figure  subject.  And  this  law  is  grossly  and 
painfully  violated  by  those  curious  examples  of  Gothic,  both 
early  and  late,  in  the  north,  (but  late.  I  think,  exclusively,  in 
Italy,)  in  which  the  minor  features  of  tiie  architecture  wert 


TBS  MATERIAL   OF  ORNAMENT.  Jit 

Co  iiposed  of  small  models  of  the  larger  :  examples  which  led 
the  way  to  a  series  of  abuses  materially  affecting  the  life, 
strength,  and  nobleness  of  the  Northern  Gothic, — abuses 
which  no  Ninevite,  nor  Egyptian,  nor  Greek,  nor  Byzantine, 
nor  Italian  of  the  earlier  ages  would  have  endured  for  an  in- 
stant, and  which  strike  me  with  renewed  surprise  whenever 
1  pass  beneath  a  portal  of  thirteenth  century  Northern 
Gothic,  associated  as  they  are  with  manifestations  of  exqui- 
site feeling  and  power  in  other  directions.  The  porches  of 
Bourges,  Amiens,  Notre  Dame  of  Paris,  and  Notre  Dame  of 
Dijon,  may  be  noted  as  conspicuous  in  error :  small  models 
of  feudal  towers  with  diminutive  windows  and  battlements, 
of  cathedral  spires  with  scaly  pinnacles,  mixed  with  temple 
pediments  and  nondescript  edifices  of  every  kind,  are  crowded 
together  over  the  recess  of  the  niche  into  a  confused  fool's 
cap  for  the  saint  below.  Italian  Gothic  is  almost  entirely 
free  from  the  taint  of  this  barbarism  until  the  Renaissance 
period,  when  it  becomes  rampant  in  the  cathedral  of  Como 
and  Certosa  of  Pavia  ;  and  at  Venice  we  find  the  Renaissance 
churches  decorated  with  models  of  fortifications  like  those  in 
the  repository  at  Woolwich,  or  inlaid  with  mock  arcades  in 
pseudo-perspective,  copied  from  gardeners'  paintings  at  the 
ends  of  conservatories. 

§  xv.  I  conclude,  then,  with  the  reader's  leave,  that  all 
ornament  is  base  which  takes  for  its  subject  human  work, 
that  it  is  utterly  base, — painful  to  every  rightly-toned  mind, 
without  perhaps  immediate  sense  of  the  reason,  but  for  a 
reason  palpable  enough  when  we  do  think  of  it.  For  to  carve 
our  own  work,  and  set  it  up  for  admiration,  is  a  miserable 
self-complacency,  a  contentment  in  our  own  wretched  doings, 
when  we  might  have  been  looking  at  God's  doings.  And  all 
noble  ornament  is  the  exact  reverse  of  this.  It  is  the  expres- 
sion of  man's  delight  in  God's  work. 

§  xvi.  For  observe,  the  function  of  ornament  is  to  make 
you  happy.  Now  in  what  are  you  rightly  happy?  Not  in 
thinking  of  what  you  have  done  yourself  ;  not  in  your  own 
pride,  not  your  own  birth  ;  not  in  your  own  being,  or  your 
own  will,  but  ill  looking  at  God  ;  watching  what  He  doe% 


820  THE  STONES  OF   VEXIC&. 

what  He  is  ;  and  obeying  His  law,  and  yielding  yourself  t« 
His  wilL  , 

You  are  to  be  made  happy  by  ornaments  ;  therefore  they 
must  be  the  expression  of  all  this.  Not  copies  of  your  own 
handiwork  ;  not  boastings  of  your  own  grandeur  ;  not  herald- 
ries ;  not  king's  arms,  nor  any  creature's  arms,  but  God's  arm, 
seen  in  His  work.  Not  manifestation  of  your  delight  in  your 
own  laws,  or  your  own  liberties,  or  your  own  inventions  :  but 
in  divine  laws,  constant,  daily,  common  laws  ; — not  Composite 
laws,  nor  Doric  laws,  nor  laws  of  the  five  orders,  but  of  the 
Ten  Commandments. 

§  xvn.  Then  the  proper  material  of  ornament  will  be  what- 
ever God  has  created  ;  and  its  proper  treatment,  that  which 
seems  in  accordance  with  or  symbolical  of  His  laws.  And,  for 
material,  we  shall  therefore  have,  first,  the  abstract  lines 
which  are  most  frequent  in  nature  ;  and  then,  from  lower  to 
higher,  the  whole  range  of  systematised  inorganic  and  organic 
forms.  We  shall  rapidly  glance  in  order  at  their  kinds  ;  and, 
however  absurd  the  elemental  division  of  inorganic  matter  by 
the  ancients  may  seem  to  the  modern  chemist,  it  is  one  so 
grand  and  simple  for  arrangements  of  external  appearances, 
that  I  shall  here  follow  it ;  noticing  first,  after  abstract  lines, 
the  imitable  forms  of  the  four  elements,  of  Earth,  "Water, 
Fire,  and  Air,  and  then  those  of  animal  organisms.  It  may 
be  convenient  to  the  reader  to  have  the  order  stated  in  a 
clear  succession  at  first,  thus  : — 

1.  Abstract  lines. 

2.  Forms  of  Earth  (Crystals). 

3.  Forms  of  Water  (Waves). 

4.  Forms  of  Fire  (Flames  and  Bays). 

5.  Forms  of  Air  (Clouds). 

6.  (Organic  forms.)     Shells. 

7.  Fish. 

8.  Reptiles  and  insects. 

9.  Vegetation  (A.)     Stems  and  Trunk* 

10.  Vegetation  (B.)     Foliage. 

11.  Birds. 

12.  Mftmrnqli^n  animals  and  Man. 


THE  MATERIAL   OF  ORNAMENT.  221 

It  truly  be  objected  that  clouds  are  a  form  of  moisture,  not 
cf  aii1.  They  fire,  however,  a  perfect  expression  of  aurial  states 
and  currents,  and  may  sufficiently  well  stand  for  the  element 
they  move  in.  And  I  have  put  vegetation  apparently  some- 
what out  of  its  place,  owing  to  its  vast  importance  as  a  means 
of  decoration,  and  its  constant  association  with  birds  and  men. 

§  xvm.  1.  Abstract  lines.  I  have  not  with  lines  named 
also  shades  and  colors,  for  this  evident  reason,  that  there  are 
no  such  things  as  abstract  shadows,  irrespective  of  the  forms 
which  exhibit  them,  and  distinguished  in  their  own  nature 
from  each  other ;  and  that  the  arrangement  of  shadows,  in 
greater  or  less  quantity,  or  in  certain  harinonical  successions, 
is  an  affair  of  treatment,  not  of  selection.  And  when  we  use 
abstract  colors,  we  are  in  fact  using  a  part  of  nature  herself, 
— using  a  quality  of  her  light,  correspondent  with  that  of  the 
air,  to  carry  sound  ;  and  the  arrangement  of  color  in  harmo- 
nious masses  is  again  a  matter  of  treatment,  not  selection. 
Yet  even  in  this  separate  art  of  coloi'ing,  as  referred  to  archi- 
tecture, it  is  very  notable  that  the  best  tints  are  always  those 
of  natural  stones.  These  can  hardly  be  wrong ;  I  think  I 
never  yet  saw  an  offensive  introduction  of  the  natural  colors  of 
marble  and  precious  stones,  unless  in  small  mosaics,  and  in  one 
or  two  glaring  instances  of  the  resolute  determination  to  pro- 
duce something  ugly  at  any  cost.  On  the  other  hand,  I  have 
most  assuredly  never  yet  seen  a  painted  building,  ancient  or 
modern,  which  seemed  to  me  quite  right. 

§  xix.  Our  first  constituents  of  ornament  will  therefore  be 
abstract  lines,  that  is  to  say,  the  most  frequent  contours  of 
natural  objects,  transferred  to  architectural  forms  when  it  is 
not  right  or  possible  to  render  such  forms  distinctly  imitative. 
For  instance,  the  line  or  curve  of  the  edge  of  a  leaf  may  be 
accurately  given  to  the  edge  of  a  stone,  without  rendering  the 
stone  in  the  least  like  a  leaf,  or  suggestive  of  a  leaf ;  and  this 
the  more  fully,  because  the  lines  of  nature  are  alike  in  all  her 
works  ;  simpler  or  richer  in  combination,  but  the  same  in 
character  ;  and  when  they  are  taken  out  of  their  combinations 
it  is  impossible  to  say  from  which  of  her  works  they  have  been 
borrowed,  their  universal  property  being  that  of  ever-varying 


222  THE  STONES  OF  VENICX. 

curvature  in  the  most  subtle  and  subdued  transitions,  wift, 
peculiar  expressions  of  motion,  elasticity,  or  dependence,  which 
I  have  already  insisted  upon  at  some  length  in  the  chapters  on 
typical  beauty  in  "Modern  Painters."  But,  that  the  reader 
may  here  be  able  to  compare  them  for  himself  as  deduced  from 
different  sources,  I  have  drawn,  as  accurately  as  1  can,  on  the 
opposite  plate,  some  ten  or  eleven  lines  from  natural  forms  of 
very  different  substances  and  scale  :  the  first,  a  6,  is  in  the  orig- 
inal, I  think,  the  most  beautiful  simple  curve  I  have  ever  seen 
in  my  life  ;  it  is  a  curve  about  three  quarters  of  a  mile  long, 
formed  by  the  surface  of  a  small  glacier  of  the  second  order, 
on  a  spur  of  the  Aiguille  de  Blaitiere  (Chamouni).  I  have 
merely  outlined  the  crags  on  the  right  of  it,  to  show  their 
sympathy  and  united  action  with  the  curve  of  the  glacier, 
which  is  of  course  entirely  dependent  on  their  opposition  to 
its  descent ;  softened,  however,  into  unity  by  the  snow,  which 
rarely  melts  on  this  high  glacier  surface. 

The  line  d  c  is  some  mile  and  a  half  or  two  miles  long ;  it  i» 
part  of  the  flank  of  the  chain  of  the  Dent  d'Oche  above  the 
lake  of  Geneva,  one  or  two  of  the  lines  of  the  higher  and  more 
distant  ranges  being  given  in  combination  with  it. 

h  is  a  line  about  four  feet  iong,  a  branch  of  spruce  fir.  1 
have  taken  this  tree  because  it  is  commonly  supposed  to  be 
stiff  and  ungraceful ;  its  outer  sprays  are,  however,  more  noble 
in  their  sweep  than  almost  any  that  I  know :  but  this  fragment 
is  seen  at  great  disadvantage,  because  placed  upside  down,  in 
order  that  the  reader  may  compare  its  curvatures  with  cd,eg, 
and  *  k,  which  are  all  mountain  lines  ;  e  g,  about  five  hundred 
feet  of  the  southern  edge  of  the  Matterhorn  ;  i  k,  the  entire 
slope  of  the  Aiguille  Bouchard,  from  its  summit  into  the  valley 
of  Chamouni,  a  line  some  three  miles  long  ;  I  m  is  the  line  of 
the  side  of  a  willow  leaf  traced  by  laying  the  leaf  on  the  paper  ; 
n  o,  one  of  the  innumerable  groups  of  curves  at  the  tip  of  a 
paper  Nautilus  ;  p,  a  spiral,  traced  on  the  paper  rourd  a  Ser- 
pula  ;  q  r,  the  leaf  of  the  Alisma  Plantago  with  its  interior 
ribs,  real  size  ;  8  t,  the  side  of  a  bay-leaf ;  u  w,  of  a  salvia  leaf  : 
and  it  is  to  be  carefully  noted  that  these  last  curves,  being 
never  intended  by  nature  to  be  seen  singly,  are  more  heary 


THE  MATERIAL   QJ    'JtUTAMENT.  228 

*nd  less  agreeable  than  any  of  the  others  which  would  be  seen 
as  independent  lines.  But  pll  agree  in  their  character  of 
changeful  curvature,  the  nwvntain  and  glacier  lines  only  ex- 
celling the  rest  in  delicacy  and  richness  of  transition. 

§  xx.  Why  lines  of  this  kind  are  beautiful,  I  endeavored  to 
show  in  the  "  Modern  Painters ; "  but  one  point,  there  omitted, 
may  be  mentioned  here, — that  almost  all  these  lines  are  ex- 
pressive of  action  of  force  of  some  kind,  while  the  circle  is  a 
line  of  limitation  or  support.  In  leafage  they  mark  the  forces 
of  its  growth  and  expansion,  bu+  some  among  the  most  beau- 
tiful of  them  are  described  by  bodies  variously  in  motion,  or 
subjected  to  force  ;  as  by  projectiles  in  the  air,  by  the  par- 
ticles of  water  in  a  gentle  current,  by  planets  in  motion  in  an 
orbit,  by  their  satellites,  if  the  uctual  path  of  the  satellite  in 
space  be  considered  instead  of  its  relation  to  the  planet ;  by 
boats,  or  birds,  turning  in  the  water  or  air,  by  clouds  in  vari- 
ous action  upon  the  \vind,  by  sails  in  the  curvatures  they  as- 
sume under  its  force,  and  by  thousands  of  other  objects  mov- 
ing or  bearing  force.  2n  the  Alisma  leaf,  q  r,  the  lines  through 
its  body,  which  are  of  peculiar  beauty,  mark  the  different  ex- 
pansions of  its  fibres,  and  are,  I  think,  exactly  the  same  as 
those  which  would  be  traced  by  the  currents  of  a  river  enter- 
ing a  lake  of  the  shape  of  the  leaf,  at  the  end  where  the  stalk 
is,  and  passing  out  at  its  point.  Circular  curves,  on  the  con- 
trary, are  always,  I  think,  curves  of  limitation  or  support ;  that 
is  to  say,  curves  of  perfect  rest.  The  cylindrical  curve  round 
the  stem  of  a  plant  binds  its  fibres  together  ;  while  the  ascent 
of  the  stem  is  in  lines  of  various  curvature  :  so  the  curve  of  tha 
horizon  and  of  the  apparent  heaven,  of  the  rainbow,  etc. :  and 
though  the  reader  might  imagine  that  the  circular  orbit  of  any 
moving  body,  or  the  curve  described  by  a  sling,  was  a  curve 
of  motion,  he  should  observe  that  the  circular  character  is 
given  to  the  curve  not  by  the  motion,  but  by  the  confinement : 
the  circle  is  the  consequence  not  of  the  energy  of  the  body, 
but  of  its  being  forbidden  to  leave  the  centre  ;  and  whenever 
the  whirling  or  circular  motion  can  be  fully  impressed  on  it 
we  obtain  instant  balance  and  rest  with  respect  to  the  centre 
of  the  circle. 


224  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

Hence  the  peculiar  fitness  of  the  circular  curve  as  a  sign  of 
rest,  and  security  of  support,  in  arches  ;  while  the  other  curves, 
belonging  especially  to  action,  are  to  be  used  in  the  more  ac- 
tive architectural  features — the  hand  and  foot  (the  capital  and 
base),  and  in  all  minor  ornaments  ;  more  freely  in  proportion 
to  their  independence  of  structural  conditions. 

§  xxi.  We  need  not,  however,  hope  to  be  able  to  imitate,  in 
general  work,  any  of  the  subtly  combined  curvatures  of  nat- 
ure's highest  designing  :  on  the  contrary,  their  extreme  re- 
finement renders  them  unfit  for  coarse  service  or  material. 
Lines  which  are  lovely  in  the  pearly  film  of  the  Nautilus  shell, 
are  lost  in  the  grey  roughness  of  stone  ;  and  those  which  are 
sublime  in  the  blue  of  far  away  hills,  are  weak  in  the  sub- 
stance of  incumbent  marble.  Of  all  the  graceful  lines  assem- 
bled on  Plate  "VTL,  we  shall  do  well  to  be  content  with  two  of 
the  simplest.  We  shall  take  one  mountain  hue  (e  g)  and  one 
leaf  line  (u  w),  or  rather  fragments  of  them,  for  we  shall  per- 
haps not  want  them  all.  I  will  mark  off  from  u  w  the  little 
bit  x  y,  and  from  e  g  the  piece  ef;  both  which  appear  to  me 
likely  to  be  serviceable  :  and  if  hereafter  we  need  the  help  of 
any  abstract  lines,  we  will  see  what  we  can  do  with  these  only. 

§  xxn.  2.  Forms  of  Earth  (Crystals).  It  may  be  asked  why 
I  do  not  say  rocks  or  mountains  ?  Simply,  because  the  no- 
bility of  these  depends,  first,  on  their  scale,  and,  secondly,  on 
accident.  Their  scale  cannot  be  represented,  nor  their  acci- 
dent systematised.  No  sculptor  can  in  the  least  imitate  the 
peculiar  character  of  accidental  fracture  :  he  can  obey  or  ex- 
hibit the  laws  of  nature,  but  he  cannot  copy  the  felicity  of 
her  fancies,  nor  follow  the  steps  of  her  fury.  The  very  glory 
of  a  mountain  is  in  the  revolutions  which  raised  it  into  power, 
and  the  forces  which  are  striking  it  into  ruin.  But  we  want 
no  cold  and  careful  imitation  of  catastrophe  ;  no  calculated 
mockery  of  convulsion  ;  no  delicate  recommendation  of  ruin. 
We  are  to  follow  the  labor  of  Nature,  but  not  her  disturb- 
ance ;  to  imitate  what  she  has  deliberately  ordained,*  not 

*  Thus  above,  I  adduced  for  the  architect's  imitation  the  appointed 
stories  and  beds  of  the  Matterhorn,  not  its  irregular  forms  of  crag  or  tin 

MM* 


THE  MATERIAL   OF  ORNAMENT.  225 

what  she  has  violently  suffered,  or  strangely  permitted.  The 
only  uses,  therefore,  of  rock  form  which  are  wise  in  the  archi- 
tect, are  its  actual  introduction  (by  leaving  untouched  such 
blocks  as  are  meant  for  rough  service),  and  that  noble  use  of 
the  general  examples  of  mountain  structure  of  which  I  have 
often  heretofore  spoken.  Imitations  of  rock  form  have,  for 
the  most  part,  been  confined  to  periods  of  degraded  feeling  and 
to  architectural  toys  or  pieces  of  dramatic  effect, — the  Calva- 
ries and  holy  sepulchres  of  Romanism,  or  the  grottoes  and 
fountains  of  English  gardens.  They  were,  however,  not  un- 
f  requent  in  mediaeval  bas-reliefs ;  very  curiously  and  elaborately 
treated  by  Ghiberti  on  the  doors  of  Florence,  and  in  religious 
sculpture  necessarily  introduced  wherever  the  life  of  the  anch- 
orite was  to  be  expressed.  They  were  rarely  introduced  as 
of  ornamental  character,  but  for  particular  service  and  expres- 
sion ;  we  shall  see  an  interesting  example  in  the  Ducal  Palace 
at  Venice. 

§  xxni.  But  against  crystalline  form,  which  is  the  com- 
pletely systematised  natural  structure  of  the  earth,  none  of 
these  objections  hold  good,  and,  accordingly,  it  is  an  endless 
element  of  decoration,  where  higher  conditions  of  structure 
cannot  be  represented.  The  four-sided  pyramid,  perhaps  the 
most  frequent  of  all  natural  crystals,  is  called  in  architecture 
a  dogtooth  ;  its  use  is  quite  limitless,  and  always  beautiful : 
the  cube  and  rhomb  are  almost  equally  frequent  in  chequers 
and  dentils  ;  and  all  mouldings  of  the  middle  Gothic  are  little 
more  than  representations  of  the  canaliculated  crystals  of  the 
beryl,  and  such  other  minerals  : 

§  xxiv.  Not  knowingly.  I  do  not  suppose  a  single  hint 
was  ever  actually  taken  from  mineral  form  ;  not  even  by  tha 
Arabs  in  their  stalactite  pendants  and  vaults  :  all  that  I  mean 
to  allege  is,  that  beautiful  ornament,  wherever  found,  or  how- 
ever invented,  is  always  either  an  intentional  or  unintentional 
copy  of  some  constant  natural  form  ;  and  that  in  this  particu- 
lar instance,  the  pleasure  we  have  in  these  geometrical  figures 
of  our  own  invention,  is  dependent  for  all  its  acuteness  on  the 
natural  tendency  impressed  on  us  by  our  Creator  to  love  the 
forms  into  which  the  earth  He  gave  ua  to  tread,  and  out  of 
VOL.  I.— 15 


826  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

which  He  formed  our  bodies,  knit  itself  as  it  was  separated 
from  the  deep. 

§  xxv.  3.  Forms  of  Water  (Waves). 

The  reasons  which  prevent  rocks  from  being  used  for  orna- 
ment repress  still  more  forcibly  the  portraiture  of  the  sea. 
Yet  the  constant  necessity  of  introducing  some  representation 
of  water  in  order  to  explain  the  scene  of  events,  or  as  a  sacred 
symbol,  has  forced  the  sculptors  of  all  ages  to  the  invention  of 
some  type  or  letter  for  it,  if  not  an  actual  imitation,  We 
find  every  degree  of  conventionalism  or  of  naturalism  in  these 
types,  the  earlier  being,  for  the  most  part,  thoughtful  sym- 
bols ;  the  latter,  awkward  attempts  at  portraiture.*  The 
most  conventional  of  all  types  is  the  Egyptian  zigzag,  pre- 
served in  the  astronomical  sign  of  Aquarius  ;  but  every  na- 
tion, with  any  capacities-  of  thought,  has  given,  in  some  of  its 
work,  the  same  great  definition  of  open  water,  as  "an  undula- 
tory  thing  with  fish  in  it."  I  say  open  water,  because  inland 
nations  have  a  totally  different  conception  of  the  element. 
Imagine  for  an  instant  the  different  feelings  of  an  husband- 
man whose  hut  is  built  by  the  Rhine  or  the  Po,  and  who 
sees,  day  by  day,  the  same  giddy  succession  of  silent  power, 
the  same  opaque,  thick,  whirling,  irresistible  labyrinth  of 
rushing  lines  and  twisted  eddies,  coiling  themselves  into  ser- 
pentine race  by  the  reedy  banks,  in  omne  volubilis  sevum, — 
and  the  image  of  the  sea  in  the  mind  of  the  fisher  upon  the 
rocks  of  Ithaca,  or  by  the  Straits  of  Sicily,  who  sees  how,  day 
by  day,  the  morning  winds  come  coursing  to  the  shore,  every 
breath  of  them  with  a  green  wave  rearing  before  it ;  clear, 
crisp,  ringing,  merry -minded  waves,  that  fall,  over  and  over 
each  other,  laughing  like  children  as  they  near  the  beach,  and 
at  last  clash  themselves  all  into  dust  of  crystal  over  the  daz- 
zling sweeps  of  sand.  Fancy  the  difference  of  the  image  of 
water  in  those  two  minds,  and  then  compare  the  sculpture  of 
the  coiling  eddies  of  the  Tigris  and  its  reedy  branches  in 
those  slabs  of  Nineveh,  with  the  crested  curls  of  the  Greek 
sea  on  tbe  coins  of  Camerina  or  Tarentum.  But  both  agree 
in  the  undulatory  lines,  either  of  the  currents  or  the  surface, 
*  Appendix  21,  "Ancient  Representations  of  Water." 


THE  MATERIAL   OF  ORNAMENT.  227 

and  in  the  introduction  of  fish  as  explanatory  of  the  meaning 
of  those  lines  (so  also  the  Egyptians  in  their  frescoes,  with 
most  elaborate  realisation  of  the  fish).  There  is  a  very  curi- 
ous instance  on  a  Greek  mirror  in  the  British  Museum,  rep- 
resenting Orion  on  the  Sea  ;  and  multitudes  of  examples  with 
dolphins  on  the  Greek  vases  :  the  type  is  preserved  without 
alteration  in  mediaeval  painting  and  sculpture.  The  sea  in 
that  Greek  mirror  (at  least  400  B.C.),  in  the  mosaics  of  Tor- 
cello  and  St.  Mark's,  on  the  front  of  St.  Frediano  at  Lucca,  on 
the  gate  of  the  fortress  of  St.  Michael's  Mount  in  Normandy, 
on  the  Bayeux  tapestry,  and  on  the  capitals  of  the  Ducal 
Palace  at  Venice  (under  Arion  on  his  Dolphin),  is  represented 
in  a  manner  absolutely  identical.  Giotto,  in  the  frescoes  of 
Avignon,  has,  T.rith  his  usual  strong  feeling  for  naturalism, 
given  the  best  example  I  remember,  in  painting,  of  the  unity 
of  the  conventional  system  with  direct  imitation,  and  that 
both  in  sea  and  river ;  giving  in  pure  blue  color  the  coiling 
whirlpool  of  the  stream,  and  the  curled  crest  of  the  breaker. 
But  in  all  early  sculptural  examples,  both  imitation  and  dec- 
orative effect  are  subordinate  to  easily  understood  symbolical 
language  ;  the  undulatory  lines  are  often  valuable  as  an  en- 
richment of  surface,  but  are  rarely  of  any  studied  graceful- 
ness. One  of  the  best  examples  I  know  of  their  expressive 
arrangement  is  around  some  figures  in  a  spandril  at  Bourges, 
representing  figures  sinking  in  deep  sea  (the  deluge)  :  the 
waved  lines  yield  beneath  the  bodies  and  wildly  lave  the  edge 
of  the  moulding,  two  birds,  as  if  to  mark  the  reverse  of  all 
order  of  nature,  lowest  of  all  sunk  in  the  depth  of  them.  In 
later  times  of  debasement,  water  began  to  be  represented  with 
its  waves,  foam,  etc.,  as  on  the  Vendramiu  tomb  at  Venice, 
above  cited  ;  but  even  there,  without  any  definite  ornamental 
purpose,  the  sculptor  meant  partly  to  explain  a  story,  partly 
to  display  dexterity  of  chiselling,  but  not  to  produce  beauti- 
ful forms  pleasant  to  the  eye.  The  imitation  is  vapid  and 
joyless,  and  it  has  often  been  matter  of  surprise  to  me  that 
sculptors,  so  fond  of  exhibiting  their  skill,  should  have  suf- 
fered this  imitation  to  fall  so  short,  and  remain  so  cold, — 
should  not  have  taken  more  pains  to  curl  the  waves  clearly,  to 


228  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

edge  them  sharply,  and  to  express,  by  drillholes  or  other  ar- 
tifices, the  character  of  foam.  I  think  in  one  of  the  Antwerp 
churches  something  of  this  kind  is  done  in  wood,  but  in  gen- 
eral it  is  rare. 

§  xxvi.  4.  Forms  of  Fire  (Flames  and  Rays).  If  neither  the 
*ea  nor  the  rock  can  be  imagined,  still  less  the  devouring  fire. 
It  has  been  symbolised  by  radiation  both  in  painting  and 
sculpture,  for  the  most  part  in  the  latter  very  unsuccessfully. 
It  was  suggested  to  me,  not  long  ago,*  that  zigzag  decorations 
of  Norman  architects  were  typical  of  light  springing  from  the 
half-set  orb  of  the  sun  ;  the  resemblance  to  the  ordinary  sun 
type  is  indeed  remarkable,  but  I  believe  accidental.  I  shall 
give  you,  in  my  large  plates,  two  curious  instances  of  radiation 
in  brick  ornament  above  arches,  but  I  think  these  also  without 
any  very  luminous  intention.  The  imitations  of  fire  in  the 
torches  of  Cupids  and  genii,  and  burning  in  tops  of  urns,  which 
attest  and  represent  the  mephitic  inspirations  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  in  most  London  chui-ches,  and  in  monuments 
all  over  civilised  Europe,  together  with  the  gilded  rays  of  Ro- 
manist altars,  may  be  left  to  such  mercy  as  the  reader  is  in- 
clined to  show  them. 

§  xxvn.  5.  Forms  of  Air  (Clouds).  Hardly  more  manage- 
able than  flames,  and  of  no  ornamental  use,  their  majesty  being 
in  scale  and  color,  and  inimitable  in  marble.  They  are  lightly 
traced  in  much  of  the  cinque  cento  sculpture ;  very  boldly  and 
grandly  in  the  strange  Last  Judgment  in  the  porch  of  St. 
Maclou  at  Rouen,  described  in  the  "  Seven  Lamps."  But  the 
most  elaborate  imitations  are  altogether  of  recent  date,  ar- 
ranged in  concretions  like  flattened  sacks,  forty  or  fifty  feet 
above  the  altars  of  continental  churches,  mixed  with  the  gilded 
truncheons  intended  for  sunbeams  above  alluded  to. 

§  xxvin.  6.  Shells.  I  place  these  lowest  in  the  scale  (after 
inorganic  forms)  as  being  moulds  or  coats  of  organism ;  not 
themselves  organic.  The  sense  of  this,  and  of  their  being 
mere  emptiness  and  deserted  houses,  must  always  prevent 
them,  however  beautiful  in  their  lines,  from  being  largely  used 
in  ornamentation.  It  is  better  to  take  the  line  and  leave  the 
*  By  the  friend  to  whom  I  owe  Appendix  21. 


THE  MATERIAL    OF  ORNAMENT.  229 

shelL  One  form,  indeed,  that  of  the  cockle,  has  been  in  all 
ages  used  as  the  decoration  of  half  domes,  which  were  named 
conchas  from  their  shell  form  :  and  I  believe  the  wrinkled  lip 
of  the  cockle,  so  used,  to  have  been  the  origin,  in  some  parts 
of  Europe  at  least,  of  the  exuberant  foliation  of  the  round 
arch.  The  scallop  also  is  a  pretty  radiant  form,  and  mingles 
well  with  other  symbols  when  it  is  needed.  The  crab  is  always 
as  delightful  as  a  grotesque,  for  here  we  suppose  the  beast  in- 
side the  shell ;  and  he  sustains  his  part  in  a  lively  manner 
among  the  other  signs  of  the  zodiac,  with  the  scorpion  ;  or 
scattered  upon  sculptured  shores,  as  beside  the  Bronze  Boar 
of  Florence.  We  shall  find  him  in  a  basket  at  Venice,  at  the 
base  of  one  of  the  Piazzetta  shafts. 

§  xxix.  7.  Fish.  These,  as  beautiful  in  their  forms  as  they 
are  familiar  to  our  sight,  while  their  interest  is  increased  by 
their  symbolic  meaning,  are  of  great  value  as  material  of  orna- 
ment. Love  of  the  picturesque  has  generally  induced  a  choice 
of  some  supple  form  with  scaly  body  and  lashing  tail,  but  the 
simplest  fish  form  is  largely  employed  in  mediseval  work.  We 
shaU  find  the  plain  oval  body  and  sharp  head  of  the  Thunny 
constantly  at  Venice  ;  and  the  fish  used  in  the  expression  of 
sea-water,  or  water  generally,  are  always  plain  bodied  creat- 
ures in  the  best  mediaeval  sculpture.  The  Greek  type  of  the 
dolphin,  however,  sometimes  but  slightly  exaggerated  from 
the  real  outline  of  the  Delphinus  Delphis,*  is  one  of  the  most 
picturesque  of  animal  forms  ;  and  the  action  of  its  slow  revolv- 
ing plunge  is  admirably  caught  upon  the  surface  sea  repre- 
sented in  Greek  vases. 

§  xxx.  8.  Reptiles  and  Insecta  The  forms  of  the  serpent 
and  lizard  exhibit  almost  every  element  of  beauty  and  horror 
in  strange  combination  ;  the  horror,  which  in  an  imitation  is 
felt  only  as  a  pleasurable  excitement,  has  rendered  them  favor- 
ite subjects  in  all  periods  of  art ;  and  the  unity  of  both  lizard 

*  One  is  glad  to  hear  from  Cuvier,  that  though  dolphins  in  general  are 
"  lesplus  carnassiers,  et  proportion  gardt  e  avec  leurtaille,  les  plus  cruels 
de  1'ordre  ;  "  yet  that  in  the  Delphinus  Delphis,  "  tout  1'organisation  d» 
son  cerveau  annonce  quhl  ne  doit  pa$  etre  dtp&urcu  de  la  docilite  qu'il* 
<les  anciens)  lui  attribuaient." 


230  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

and  serpent  in  the  ideal  dragon,  the  most  picturesque  ana 
powerful  of  all  animal  forms,  and  of  peculiar  symbolical  in- 
terest to  the  Christian  mind,  is  perhaps  the  principal  of  ah1  the 
materials  of  mediaeval  picturesque  sculpture.  By  the  best 
sculptors  it  is  always  used  with  this  symbolic  meaning,  by  the 
cinque  cento  sculptors  as  an  ornament  merely.  The  best  and 
most  natural  representations  of  mere  viper  or  snake  are  to  be 
found  interlaced  among  their  confused  groups  of  meaningless 
objecta  The  real  power  and  horror  of  the  snake-head  has, 
however,  been  rarely  reached.  I  shall  give  one  example  from 
Verona  of  the  twelfth  century. 

Other  less  powerful  reptile  forms  are  not  unfrequenL 
Small  frogs,  lizards,  and  snails  almost  always  enliven  the  fore- 
grounds and  leafage  of  good  sculpture.  The  tortoise  is  less 
usually  employed  in  groups.  Beetles  are  chiefly  mystic  and 
colossal.  Various  insects,  like  everything  else  in  the  world, 
occur  in  cinque  cento  work  ;  grasshoppers  most  frequently. 
We  shall  see  on  the  Ducal  Palace  at  Venice  an  interesting  use 
of  the  bee. 

§  xxxi.  9.  Branches  and  stems  of  Trees.  I  arrange  these 
under  a  separate  head  ;  because,  while  the  forms  of  leafage 
belong  to  all  architecture,  and  ought  to  be  employed  in  it 
always,  those  of  the  branch  and  stem  belong  to  a  peculiar 
imitative  and  luxuriant  architecture,  and  are  only  applicable 
at  times.  Pagan  sculptors  seem  to  have  perceived  little  beauty 
in  the  stems  of  trees  ;  they  were  little  else  than  timber  to 
them  ;  and  they  preferred  the  rigid  and  monstrous  triglyph, 
or  the  fluted  column,  to  a  broken  bough  or  gnarled  trunk. 
But  with  Christian  knowledge  came  a  peculiar  regard  for  the 
forms  of  vegetation,  from  the  root  upwards.  The  actual  rep- 
resentation of  the  entire  trees  required  in  many  scripture  sub- 
jects,— as  in  the  most  frequent  of  Old  Testament  subjects,  the 
Fall ;  and  again  in  the  Drunkenness  of  Noah,  the  Garden 
Agony,  and  many  others,  familiarised  the  sculptors  of  bas- 
relief  to  the  beauty  of  forms  before  unknown  ;  while  the  sym- 
bolical name  given  to  Christ  by  the  Prophets,  "  the  Branch," 
and  the  frequent  expressions  referring  to  this  image  through- 
out every  scriptural  description  of  conversion,  gave  an  especial 


THE  MATERIAL   OF  ORNAMENT.  231 

Interest  to  the  Christian  mind  to  this  portion  of  vegetative 
structure.  For  some  time,  nevertheless,  the  sculpture  of  trees 
was  confined  to  bas-relief  ;  but  it  at  last  affected  even  the  treat- 
ment of  the  main  shafts  in  Lombard  Gothic  buildings, — as  in 
the  western  fa§ade  of  Genoa,  where  two  of  the  shafts  are  rep- 
resented as  gnarled  trunks  :  and  as  bas-relief  itself  became 
more  boldly  introduced,  so  did  tree  sculpture,  until  we  find 
the  writhed  and  knotted  stems  of  the  vine  and  fig  used  for 
angle  shafts  on  the  Doge's  Palace,  and  entire  oaks  and  apple- 
trees  forming,  roots  and  all,  the  principal  decorative  sculp- 
tures of  the  Scala  tombs  at  Verona.  It  was  then  discovered 
to  be  more  easy  to  carve  branches  than  leaves ;  and,  much 
helped  by  the  frequent  employment  in  later  Gothic  of  the 
"  Tree  of  Jesse,"  for  traceries  and  other  purposes,  the  system 
reached  full  development  in  a  perfect  thicket  of  twigs,  which 
form  the  richest  portion  of  the  decoration  of  the  porches  of 
Beauvais.  It  had  now  been  carried  to  its  richest  extreme : 
men  wearied  of  it  and  abandoned  it,  and  like  all  other  natural 
and  beautiful  things,  it  was  ostracised  by  the  mob  of  Renais- 
sance architects.  But  it  is  interesting  to  observe  how  the 
human  mind,  in  its  acceptance  of  this  feature  of  ornament, 
proceeded  from  the  ground,  and  followed,  as  it  were,  the  nat- 
ural growth  of  the  tree.  It  began  with  the  rude  and  solid 
trunk,  as  at  Genoa  ;  then  the  branches  shot  out,  and  became 
loaded  leaves ;  autumn  came,  the  leaves  were  shed,  and  the 
eye  was  directed  to  the  extremities  of  the  delicate  branches ; 
— the  Renaissance  frosts  came,  and  all  perished. 

§  xxxn.  10.  Foliage,  Flowers,  and  Fruit.  It  is  necessary 
to  consider  these  as  separated  from  the  stems ;  not  only,  as 
above  noted,  because  their  separate  use  marks  another  school 
of  architecture,  but  because  they  are  the  only  organic  struct- 
ures which  are  capable  of  being  so  treated,  and  intended  to  be 
so,  without  strong  effort  of  imagination.  To  pull  animals  to 
pieces,  and  use  their  paws  for  feet  of  furniture,  or  their  heads 
for  terminations  of  rods  and  shafts,  is  usually  the  characteris- 
tic of  feelingless  schools  ;  the  greatest  men  like  their  animals 
whole.  The  head  may,  indeed,  be  so  managed  as  to  look 
emergent  from  the  stone,  rather  than  fastened  to  it;  and 


232  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

wherever  there  is  throughout  the  architecture  any  expression 
of  sternness  or  severity  (severity  in  its  literal  sense,  as  in 
Romans,  xi.  22),  such  divisions  of  the  living  form  may  be  per- 
mitted ;  still,  you  cannot  cut  an  animal  to  pieces  as  you  can 
gather  a  flower  or  a  leaf.  These  were  intended  for  our  gath- 
ering, and  for  our  constant  delight :  wherever  men  exist  in  a 
perfectly  civilised  and  healthy  state,  they  have  vegetation 
around  them  ;  wherever  their  state  approaches  that  of  inno- 
cence or  perfectness,  it  approaches  that  of  Paradise, — it  is  a 
dressing  of  garden.  And,  therefore,  where  nothing  else  can 
be  used  for  ornament,  vegetation  may  ;  vegetation  in  any 
form,  however  fragmentary,  however  abstracted.  A  single 
leaf  laid  upon  the  angle  of  a  stone,  or  the  mere  form  or  frame- 
work of  the  leaf  drawn  upon  it,  or  the  mere  shadow  and  ghosf 
of  the  leaf, — the  hollow  "foil"  cut  out  of  it, — possesses  t 
charm  which  nothing  else  can  replace  ;  a  charm  not  exciting, 
nor  demanding  laborious  thought  or  sympathy,  but  perfectly 
simple,  peaceful,  and  satisfying. 

§  xxxra.  The  full  recognition  of  leaf  forms,  as  the  general 
source  of  subordinate  decoration,  is  one  of  the  chief  charac- 
teristics of  Christian  architecture ;  but  the  two  roots  of 
leaf  ornament  are  the  Greek  acanthus,  and  the  Egyptian 
lotus.* 

The  dry  land  and  the  river  thus  each  contributed  their  part ; 
and  all  the  florid  capitals  of  the  richest  Northern  Gothic  on 
the  one  hand,  and  the  arrowy  lines  of  the  severe  Lombardio 
capitals  on  the  other,  are  founded  on  these  two  gifts  of  the 
dust  of  Greece  and  the  waves  of  the  Nile.  The  leaf  which  is, 
I  believe,  called  the  Persepolitan  water-leaf,  is  to  be  associated 
with  the  lotus  flower  and  stem,  as  the  origin  of  our  noblest 
types  of  simple  capital ;  and  it  is  to  be  noted  that  the  florid 
leaves  of  the  dry  land  are  used  most  by  the  Northern  archi- 

*  Vide  Wilkinson,  vol.  v. ,  woodcut  No.  478,  fig.  8.  The  tamarisk  ap- 
pears afterwards  to  have  given  the  idea  of  a  subdivision  of  leaf  more 
pure  and  quaint  than  that  of  the  acanthus.  Of  late  our  botanists  have? 
discovered,  in  the  "  Victoria  regia  "  (supposing  its  blossom  reversed),  an- 
other strangely  beautiful  type  of  what  w«  may  perhaps  hereafter  find  if 
pavement  to  call  Lily  capitals. 


THE  MATERIAL   OF  ORNAMENT.  233 

tects,  while  the  water  leaves  are  gathered  for  their  ornaments 
by  the  parched  builders  of  the  Desert. 

§  xxxrv.  Fruit  is,  for  the  most  part,  more  valuable  in  color 
than  form  ;  nothing  is  more  beautiful  as  a  subject  of  sculpture 
on  a  tree  ;  but,  gathered  and  put  in  baskets,  it  is  quite  possible 
to  have  too  much  of  it.  We  shall  find  it  so  used  very  dex- 
terously on  the  Ducal  Palace  of  Venice,  there  with  a  meaning 
which  rendered  it  right  necessary ;  but  the  Eenaissance  archi- 
tects address  themselves  to  spectators  who  care  for  nothing 
but  feasting,  and  suppose  that  clusters  of  pears  and  pineapples 
are  visions  of  which  their  imagination  can  never  weary,  and 
above  which  it  will  never  care  to  rise.  I  am  no  advocate  fou 
imageworship,  as  I  believe  the  reader  will  elsewhere  suffi* 
ciently  find  ;  but  I  am  very  sure  that  the  Protestantism  o< 
London  would  have  found  itself  quite  as  secure  in  a  cathedral 
decorated  with  statues  of  good  men,  as  in  one  hung  round 
with  bunches  of  ribston  pippina 

§  xxxv.  11.  Birds.  The  perfect  and  simple  grace  of  bird 
form,  in  general,  has  rendered  it  a  favorite  subject  with  early 
sculptors,  and  with  those  schools  which  loved  form  more  than 
action  ;  but  the  difficulty  of  expressing  action,  where  the  mus 
cular  markings  are  concealed,  has  limited  the  use  of  it  in  later 
art.  Half  the  ornament,  at  least,  in  Byzantine  architecture, 
and  a  third  of  that  of  Lombardic,  is  composed  of  birds,  either 
pecking  at  fruit  or  flowers,  or  standing  on  either  side  of  a 
flower  or  vase,  or  alone,  as  generally  the  symbolical  peacock. 
But  how  much  of  our  general  sense  of  grace  or  power  of 
motion,  of  serenity,  peacefulness,  and  spirituality,  we  owe  to 
these  creatures,  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  ;  their  wings  sup- 
plying us  with  almost  the  only  means  of  representation  of  spir- 
itual motion  which  we  possess,  and  with  an  ornamental  form  of 
which  the  eye  is  never  weary,  however  meaninglessly  or  end- 
lessly repeated  ;  whether  in  utter  isolation,  or  associated  with 
the  bodies  of  the  lizard,  the  horse,  the  lion,  or  the  man.  The 
heads  of  the  birds  of  prey  are  always  beautiful,  and  used  aa 
the  richest  ornaments  in  all  agea 

§  xxxvi.  12.  Quadrupeds  and  Men.  Of  quadrupeds  the 
horse  has  received  an  elevation  into  the  primal  rank  of  sculp- 


234  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

tural  subject,  owing  to  his  association  with  men.  The  fuB 
value  of  other  quadruped  forms  has  hardly  been  perceived,  or 
worked  for,  in  late  sculpture  ;  and  the  want  of  science  is  more 
felt  in  these  subjects  than  in  any  other  branches  of  early  work. 
The  greatest  richness  of  quadruped  ornament  is  found  in  the 
hunting  sculpture  of  the  Lombards  ;  but  rudely  treated  (the 
most  noble  examples  of  treatment  being  the  lions  of  Egypt, 
the  Ninevite  bulls,  and  the  mediaeval  griffins).  Quadrupeds 
of  course  form  the  noblest  subjects  of  ornament  next  to  the 
human  form  ;  this  latter,  the  chief  subject  of  sculpture,  being 
sometimes  the  end  of  architecture  rather  than  its  decoration. 
We  have  thus  completed  the  list  of  the  materials  of  archi- 
tectural decoration,  and  the  reader  may  be  assured  that  no 
effort  has  ever  been  successful  to  draw  elements  of  beauty  from 
any  other  sources  than  these.  Such  an  effort  was  once  reso- 
lutely made.  It  was  contrary  to  the  religion  of  the  Arab  to 
introduce  any  animal  form  into  his  ornament ;  but  although 
all  the  radiance  of  color,  all  the  refinements  of  proportion,  and 
all  the  intricacies  of  geometrical  design  were  open  to  him,  he 
could  not  produce  any  noble  work  without  an  abstraction  of 
the  forms  of  leafage,  to  be  used  in  his  capitals,  and  made  the 
ground  plan  of  his  chased  ornament.  But  I  have  above  noted 
that  coloring  is  an  entirely  distinct  and  independent  art ;  and 
in  the  "Seven  Lamps"  we  saw  that  this  art  had  most  power 
when  practised  in  arrangements  of  simple  geometrical  form  •. 
the  Arab,  therefore,  lay  under  no  disadvantage  in  coloring, 
and  he  had  all  the  noble  elements  of  constructive  and  propor- 
tional beauty  at  his  command  :  he  might  not  imitate  the  sea- 
shell,  but  he  could  build  the  dome.  The  imitation  of  radiance 
by  the  variegated  voussoir,  the  expression  of  the  sweep  of  the 
desert  by  the  barred  red  lines  upon  the  wall,  the  starred  in- 
sliedding  of  light  through  his  vaulted  roof,  and  all  the  endless 
fantasy  of  abstract  line,*  were  still  in  the  power  of  his  ardent 
and  fantastic  spirit.  Much  he  achieved  ;  and  yet  in  the  effort 
of  his  overtaxed  invention,  restrained  from  its  proper  food,  he 
made  his  architecture  a  glittering  vacillation  of  undisciplined 

*  Appendix  22,  "Arabian  Ornamentation." 


TREATMENT  OF  ORNAMENT.  235 

enchantment,  and  left  the  lustre  of  its  edifices  to  wither  like  a 
startling  dream,  whose  beauty  we  may  indeed  feel,  and  whose 
instruction  we  may  receive,  but  must  smile  at  its  inconsistency, 
and  mourn  over  its  evanescence. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

TREATMENT    OF   ORNAMENT. 

§  i.  WE  now  know  where  we  are  to  look  for  subject*  of 
decoration.  The  next  question  is,  as  the  reader  must  remem- 
ber, how  to  treat  or  express  these  subjects. 

There  are  evidently  two  branches  of  treatment :  the  first 
being  the  expression,  or  rendering  to  the  eye  and  mind,  of 
the  thing  itself ;  and  the  second,  the  arrangement  of  the 
thing  so  expressed  :  both  of  these  being  quite  distinct  from 
the  placing  of  the  ornament  in  proper  parts  of  the  building. 
For  instance,  suppose  we  take  a  vine-leaf  for  our  subject. 
The  first  question  is,  how  to  cut  the  vine-leaf?  Shall  we  cufr 
its  ribs  and  notches  on  the  edge,  or  only  its  general  outline  ? 
and  so  on.  Then,  how  to  arrange  the  vine-leaves  when  we 
have  them  ;  whether  symmetrically,  or  at  random  ;  or  unsym- 
metrically,  yet  within  certain  limits?  All  these  I  call  ques- 
tions of  treatment.  Then,  whether  the  vine-leaves  so  arranged 
are  to  be  set  on  the  capital  of  a  pillar  or  on  its  shaft,  I  call  a 
question  of  place. 

§  n.  So,  then,  the  questions  of  mere  treatment  are  twofold, 
how  to  express,  and  how  to  arrange.  And  expression  is  to 
the  mind  or  the  sight  Therefore,  the  inquiry  becomes  really 
threefold : — 

1.  How  ornament  is  to  be  expressed  with  reference  to  the 
mind. 

2.  How  ornament  is  to  be  arranged  with  reference  to  the 
Eight. 

3.  How  ornament  is  to  be  arranged  with  reference  to  both 


836  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

§  m.  (1.)  How  is  ornament  to  be  treated  with  reference  to 
the  mind? 

If,  to  produce  a  good  or  beautiful  ornament,  it  were  only 
necessary  to  produce  a  perfect  piece  of  sculpture,  and  if  a  well 
cut  group  of  flowers  or  animals  were  indeed  an  ornament 
wherever  it  might  be  placed,  the  work  of  the  architect  would 
be  comparatively  easy.  Sculpture  and  architecture  would  be- 
come separate  arts ;  and  the  architect  would  order  so  many 
pieces  of  such  subject  and  size  as  he  needed,  without  troub- 
ling himself  with  any  questions  but  those  of  disposition  and 
proportion.  But  this  is  not  so.  No  perfect  piece  either  of 
painting  or  sculpture  is  an  architectural  ornament  at  all,  except 
in  that  vague  sense  in  which  any  beautiful  thing  is  said  to 
ornament  the  place  it  is  in.  Thus  we  say  that  pictures  orna- 
ment a  room  ;  but  we  should  not  thank  an  architect  who  told 
us  that  his  design,  to  be  complete,  required  a  Titian  to  be 
put  in  one  corner  of  it,  and  a  Velasquez  in  the  other  ;  and  it 
is  just  as  unreasonable  to  call  perfect  sculpture,  niched  in,  or 
encrusted  on  a  building,  a  portion  of  the  ornament  of  that 
building,  as  it  would  be  to  hang  pictures  by  the  way  of  orna- 
ment on  the  outside  of  it.  It  is  very  possible  that  the  sculp- 
tured work  may  be  harmoniously  associated  with  the  build- 
ing, or  the  building  executed  with  reference  to  it ;  but  in  this 
latter  case  the  architecture  is  subordinate  to  the  sculpture,  as 
in  the  Medicean  chapel,  and  I  believe  also  in  the  Parthenon. 
And  so  far  from  the  perfection  of  the  work  conducing  to  its 
ornamental  purpose,  we  may  say,  with  entire  security,  that  its 
perfection,  in  some  degree,  unfits  it  for  its  purpose,  and  that 
no  absolutely  complete  sculpture  can  be  decoratively  right. 
We  have  a  familiar  instance  in  the  flower-work  of  St.  Paul's, 
which  is  probably,  in  the  abstract,  as  perfect  flower  sculpture 
as  could  be  produced  at  the  time ;  and  which  is  just  as  ra- 
tional an  ornament  of  the  building  as  so  many  valuable  Van 
Huysums,  framed  and  glared  and  hung  up  over  each  window. 

§  rv.  The  especial  condition  of  true  ornament  is,  that  it  be 
beautiful  in  its  place,  and  nowhere  else,  and  that  it  aid  the 
effect  of  every  portion  of  the  building  over  which  it  has  influ- 
ence ;  that  it  does  not,  by  its  richness,  make  other  parts  bald. 


TREATMENT  OF  ORNAMENT.  237 

or,  by  its  delicacy,  make  other  parts  coarse.  Every  one  of  it* 
qualities  has  reference  to  its  place  and  use  :  and  it  is  fitted  far 
its  service  by  what  would  be  faults  and  deficiencies  if  it  had  no 
especial  duty.  Ornament,  the  servant,  is  often  formal,  where 
sculpture,  the  master,  would  have  been  free  ;  the  servant  ia 
often  silent  where  the  master  would  have  been  eloquent ;  or 
hurried,  where  the  master  would  have  been  serene. 

§  v.  How  far  this  subordination  is  in  different  situations  to 
be  expressed,  or  how  far  it  may  be  surrendered,  and  ornamont, 
the  servant,  be  permitted  to  have  independent  will ;  and  by 
what  means  the  subordination  is  best  to  be  expressed  when  it 
is  required,  are  by  far  the  most  difficult  questions  I  have  ever 
tried  to  work  out  respecting  any  branch  of  art ;  for,  in  many 
of  the  examples  to  which  I  look  as  authoritative  in  their  majesty 
of  effect,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  say  whether  the  abstraction 
or  imperfection  of  the  sculpture  was  owing  to  the  choice,  or 
the  incapacity  of  the  workman  ;  and  if  to  the  latter,  how  far 
the  result  of  fortunate  incapacity  can  be  imitated  by  prudent 
self-restraint.  The  reader,  I  think,  will  understand  this  at 
once  by  considering  the  effect  of  the  illuminations  of  an  old 
missal  In  their  bold  rejection  of  all  principles  of  perspective, 
light  and  shade,  and  drawing,  they  are  infinitely  more  orna- 
mental to  the  page,  owing  to  the  vivid  opposition  of  their 
bright  colors  and  quaint  lines,  than  if  they  had  been  drawn 
by  Da  Vinci  himself :  and  so  the  Arena  chapel  is  far  more 
brightly  decorated  by  the  archaic  frescoes  of  Giotti,  than  the 
Stanze  of  the  Vatican  are  by  those  of  Eaffaelle.  But  how  far 
it  is  possible  to  recur  to  such  archaicism,  or  to  make  up  for  it 
by  any  voluntary  abandonment  of  power,  I  cannot  as  yet  vent- 
ure in  any  wise  to  determine. 

§  VL  So,  on  the  other  hand,  in  many  instances  of  finished 
work  in  which  I  find  most  to  regret  or  to  reprobate,  I  can 
hardly  distinguish  what  is  erroneous  in  principle  from  what 
is  vulgar  in  execution.  For  instance,  in  most  Romanesque 
churches  of  Italy,  the  porches  are  guarded  by  gigantic  animals, 
lions  or  griffins,  of  admirable  severity  of  design  ;  yet,  in  many 
cases,  of  so  rude  workmanship,  that  it  can  hardly  be  deter- 
mined how  much  of  4iis  severity  was  intentional, — how  much 


238  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

involuntary  :  in  the  cathedral  of  Genoa  two  modern  lions 
in  imitation  of  this  ancient  custom,  been  placed  on  the  step! 
of  its  west  front ;  and  the  Italian  sculptor,  thinking  himself  a 
marvellous  great  man  because  he  knew  what  lions  were  really 
like,  has  copied  them,  in  the  menagerie,  with  great  success, 
and  produced  two  hairy  and  well-whiskered  beasts,  as  like  to 
real  lions  as  he  could  possibly  cut  them.  One  wishes  them 
back  in  the  menagerie  for  his  pains  ;  but  it  is  impossible  to 
say  how  far  the  offence  of  their  presence  is  owing  to  the  mere 
stupidity  and  vulgarity  of  the  sculptor,  and  how  far  we 
might  have  been  delighted  with  a  realisation ,  carried  to  nearly 
the  same  length  by  Ghiberti  or  Michael  Angelo.  (I  say  nearly, 
because  neither  Ghiberti  nor  Michael  Angelo  would  ever  have 
attempted,  or  permitted,  entire  realisation,  even  in  independ- 
ent sculpture. 

§  vn.  In  spite  of  these  embarrassments,  however,  some  few 
certainties  may  be  marked  in  the  treatment  of  past  architect- 
ure, and  secure  conclusions  deduced  for  future  practice. 
There  is  first,  for  instance,  the  assuredly  intended  and  resolute 
abstraction  of  the  Ninevite  and  Egyptian  sculptors.  The  men 
who  cut  those  granite  lions  in  the  Egyptian  room  of  the  Brit- 
ish Museum,  and  who  carved  the  calm  faces  of  those  Ninevite 
kings,  knew  much  more,  both  of  lions  and  kings,  than  they 
chose  to  express.  Then  there  is  the  Greek  system,  in  which 
the  human  sculpture  is  perfect,  the  architecture  and  animal 
sculpture  is  subordinate  to  it,  and  the  architectural  ornament 
severely  subordinated  to  this  again,  so  as  to  be  composed  of 
little  more  than  abstract  lines  :  and,  finally,  there  is  the  pecul- 
iarly mediaeval  system,  in  which  the  inferior  details  are  carried 
to  as  great  or  greater  imitative  perfection  as  the  higher  sculp- 
ture ;  and  the  subordination  is  chiefly  effected  by  symmetries 
of  arrangement,  and  quaintnesses  of  treatment,  respecting 
which  it  is  difficult  to  say  how  far  they  resulted  from  inten- 
tion, and  how  far  from  incapacity. 

§  vin.  Now  of  these  systems,  the  Ninevite  and  Egyptian 
are  altogether  opposed  to  modern  habits  of  thought  and 
action  ;  they  are  sculptures  evidently  executed  under  absolute 
authorities,  physical  and  mental,  such  as  cannot  at  present  ex< 


TREATMENT  OF  ORNAMENT.  289 

ist  The  Greek  system  presupposes  the  possession  of  a 
Phidias ;  it  is  ridiculous  to  talk  of  building  in  the  Greek 
manner ;  you  may  build  a  Greek  shell  or  box,  such  as  the 
Greek  intended  to  contain  sculpture,  but  you  have  not  the 
sculpture  to  put  in  it.  Find  your  Phidias  first,  and  your  new 
Phidias  will  very  soon  settle  all  your  architectural  difficulties 
in  very  unexpected  ways  indeed  ;  but  until  you  find  him,  do 
not  think  yourselves  architects  while  you  go  on  copying  those 
poor  subordinations,  and  secondary  and  tertiary  orders  of  or- 
nament, which  the  Greek  put  on  the  shell  of  his  sculpture. 
Some  of  them,  beads,  and  dentils,  and  such  like,  are  as  good 
as  they  can  be  for  their  work,  and  you  may  use  them  for  sub- 
ordinate work  still ;  but  they  are  nothing  to  be  proud  of, 
especially  when  you  did  not  invent  them  :  and  others  of  them 
are  mistakes  and  impertinences  in  the  Greek  himself,  such  as 
his  so-called  honeysuckle  ornaments  and  others,  in  which  there 
is  a  starched  and  dull  suggestion  of  vegetable  form,  and  yet  no 
real  resemblance  nor  life,  for  the  conditions  of  them  result 
from  his  own  conceit  of  himself,  and  ignorance  of  the  physical 
sciences,  and  want  of  relish  for  common  nature,  and  vain 
fancy  that  he  could  improve  everything  he  touched,  and  that 
he  honored  it  by  taking  it  into  his  service  :  by  freedom  from 
which  conceits  the  true  Christian  architecture  is  distinguished 
— not  by  points  to  its  arches. 

§  ix.  There  remains,  therefore,  only  the  mediaeval  system, 
in  which  I  think,  generally,  more  completion  is  permitted 
(though  this  often  because  more  was  possible)  in  the  inferior 
than  in  the  higher  portions  of  ornamental  subject.  Leaves, 
and  birds,  and  lizards  are  realised,  or  nearly  so  ;  men  and 
quadrupeds  formalised.  For  observe,  the  smaller  and  inferior 
subject  remains  subordinate,  however  richly  finished  ;  but  the 
human  sculpture  can  only  be  subordinate  by  being  imperfect. 
The  realisation  is,  however,  in  all  cases,  dangerous  except 
under  most  skilful  management,  and  the  abstraction,  if  true 
and  noble,  is  almost  always  more  delightful.* 

§  x.  What,  then,  is  noble  abstraction  ?    It  is  taking  fird 

*  Vide  "Seven  L»nip«,"  Ch»p.  IV.  §  84. 


24:0  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

the  essential  elements  of  the  thing  to  be  represented,  then  th« 
rest  in  the  order  of  importance  (so  that  wherever  we  pause  we 
shall  always  have  obtained  more  than  we  leave  behind),  and 
using  any  expedient  to  impress  what  we  want  upon  the  mind, 
without  caring  about  the  mere  literal  accuracy  of  such  expe- 
dient. Suppose,  for  instance,  we  have  to  represent  a  peacock  : 
now  a  peacock  has  a  graceful  neck,  so  has  a  swan  ;  it  has  a 
high  crest,  so  has  a  cockatoo ;  it  has  a  long  tail,  so  has  a  bird 
of  Paradise.  But  the  whole  spirit  and  power  of  peacock  is  in 
those  eyes  of  the  taiL  It  is  true,  the  argus  pheasant,  and  one 
or  two  more  birds,  have  something  like  them,  but  nothing  for 
a  moment  comparable  to  them  in  brilliancy :  express  the 
gleaming  of  the  blue  eyes  through  the  plumage,  and  you  have 
nearly  all  you  want  of  peacock,  but  without  this,  nothing ;  and 
yet  those  eyes  are  not  in  relief  ;  a  rigidly  true  sculpture  of  a 
peacock's  form  could  have  no  eyes, — nothing  but  feathers. 
Here,  then,  enters  the  stratagem  of  sculpture  ;  you  must  cut 
the  eyes  in  relief,  somehow  or  another  ;  see  how  it  is  done  in 
the  peacock  on  the  opposite  page  ;  it  is  so  done  by  nearly  all 
the  Byzantine  sculptors  :  this  particular  peacock  is  meant  to 
be  seen  at  some  distance  (how  far  off  I  know  not,  for  it  is  an 
interpolation  in  the  building  where  it  occurs,  of  which  more 
hereafter),  but  at  all  events  at  a  distance  of  thirty  or  forty 
feet ;  I  have  put  it  close  to  you  that  you  may  see  plainly  the 
rude  rings  and  rods  which  stand  for  the  eyes  and  quills,  but 
at  the  just  distance  their  effect  is  perfect. 

§  XL  And  the  simplicity  of  the  means  here  employed  may 
help  us,  both  to  some  clear  understanding  of  the  spirit  of 
Ninevite  and  Egyptian  work,  and  to  some  perception  of  the 
kind  of  enfantillage  or  archaicism  to  which  it  may  be  possible, 
even  in  days  of  advanced  science,  legitimately  to  return.  The 
architect  has  no  right,  as  we  said  before,  to  require  of  us  a 
picture  of  Titian's  in  order  to  complete  his  design ;  neither 
has  he  the  right  to  calculate  on  the  co-operation  of  perfect 
sculptors,  in  subordinate  capacities.  Far  from  this ;  hia 
business  is  to  dispense  with  such  aid  altogether,  and  to  de- 
vise such  a  system  of  ornament  as  shall  be  capable  of  execu- 
tion by  uninventive  and  even  unintelligent  workmen ;  for 


DECORATION  BY  DISKS. 

ALAZZO  DEI  BADOARI  PARTECIPAZZI. 


TREATMENT  OF  ORNAMENT.  241 

supposing  that  he  required  noble  sculpture  for  his  ornament, 
how  far  would  this  at  once  limit  the  number  and  the  scale  of 
possible  buildings  ?  Architecture  is  the  work  of  nations  ;  but 
we  cannot  have  nations  of  great  sculptors.  Every  house  in 
every  street  of  every  city  ought  to  be  good  architecture,  but 
we  cannot  have  Flax  man  or  Thorwaldsen  at  work  upon  it : 
nor,  even  if  we  chose  only  to  devote  ourselves  to  our  public 
buildings,  could  the  mass  and  majesty  of  them  be  great,  if  we 
required  all  to  be  executed  by  great  men  ;  greatness  is  not  to 
be  had  in  the  required  quantity.  Giotto  may  design  a  cam- 
panile, but  he  cannot  carve  it ;  he  can  only  carve  one  or  two 
of  the  bas-reliefs  at  the  base  of  it.  And  with  every  increase 
of  your  fastidiousness  in  the  execution  of  your  ornament,  you 
diminish  the  possible  number  and  grandeur  of  your  buildings. 
Do  not  think  you  can  educate  your  workmen,  or  that  the  de- 
mand for  perfection  will  increase  the  supply  :  educated  imbe- 
cility and  finessed  foolishness  are  the  worst  of  all  imbecilities 
and  foolishnesses  ;  and  there  is  no  fi-ee-trade  measure,  which 
will  ever  lower  the  price  of  brains, — there  is  no  California  of 
common  sense.  Exactly  in  the  degree  in  which  you  require 
your  decoration  to  be  wrought  by  thoughtful  men,  you  dimin- 
ish the  extent  and  number  of  architectural  works.  Your 
business  as  an  architect,  is  to  calculate  only  on  the  co-opera- 
tion of  inferior  men,  to  think  for  them,  and  to  indicate  for 
them  such  expressions  of  your  thoughts  as  the  weakest  capac- 
ity can  comprehend  and  the  feeblest  hand  can  execute.  Thia 
is  the  definition  of  the  purest  architectural  abstractions.  They 
are  the  deep  and  laborious  thoughts  of  the  greatest  men,  put 
into  such  easy  letters  that  they  can  be  written  by  the  simplest. 
They  are  e:rpressions  of  the  mind  of  manhood  by  the  hands  of 
childhood. 

§  xn.  And  now  suppose  one  of  those  old  Ninevite  or 
Egyptian  builders,  with  a  couple  of  thousand  men — mud- 
bred,  onion-eating  creatures — under  him,  to  be  set  to  work, 
like  so  many  ants,  on  his  temple  sculptures.  What  is  he  to  do 
with  them  ?  He  can  put  them  through  a  granitic  exercise  of 
current  hand  ;  he  can  teach  them  all  how  to  curl  hair  thor- 
oughly into  croche-cceurs,  as  you  teach  a  bench  of  school-boyi 
L— 1« 


242  TEE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

how  to  shape  pothooks  ;  he  can  teach  them  all  how  to  draiw 
long  eyes  aud  straight  noses,  and  how  to  copy  accurately  cer- 
tain well-defined  lines.  Then  he  fits  his  own  great  design  to 
their  capacities  ;  he  takes  out  of  king,  or  lion,  or  god,  as  much 
as  was  expressible  by  eroche-cceurs  and  granitic  pothooks ; 
he  throws  this  into  noble  forms  of  his  own  imagining,  and 
baring  mapped  out  their  lines  so  that  there  can  be  no  possi- 
bility of  error,  sets  his  two  thousand  men  to  work  upon  them, 
with  a  will,  and  so  many  onions  a  day. 

§  xin.  I  said  those  times  cannot  now  return.  We  have, 
with  Christianity,  recognised  the  individual  value  of  every 
soul ;  and  there  is  no  intelligence  so  feeble  but  that  its  single 
ray  may  in  some  sort  contribute  to  the  general  light.  This  ia 
the  glory  of  Gothic  architecture,  that  every  jot  and  tittle, 
every  point  and  niche  of  it,  affords  room,  fuel,  and  focus  for 
individual  fire.  But  you  cease  to  acknowledge  this,  and  you 
refuse  to  accept  the  help  of  the  lesser  mind,  if  you  require 
the  work  to  be  all  executed  in  a  great  manner.  Your  busi- 
ness is  to  think  out  all  of  it  nobly,  to  dictate  the  expression 
of  it  as  far  as  your  dictation  can  assist  the  less  elevated  intel- 
ligence :  then  to  leave  this,  aided  and  taught  as  far  as  may 
be,  to  its  own  simple  act  and  effort ;  and  to  rejoice  in  its  sim- 
plicity if  not  in  its  power,  and  in  its  vitality  if  not  in  its 
science. 

§  xrv.  We  have,  then,  three  orders  of  ornament,  classed 
according  to  the  degrees  of  correspondence  of  the  executive 
and  conceptive  minds.  We  have  the  servile  ornament,  in 
which  the  executive  is  absolutely  subjected  to  the  inventive, 
— the  ornament  of  the  great  Eastern  nations,  more  especially 
Hamite,  and  all  pre-Christian,  yet  thoroughly  noble  in  its 
submissiveness.  Then  we  have  the  mediaeval  system,  in  which 
the  mind  of  the  inferior  workman  is  recognised,  and  has  full 
room  for  action,  but  is  guided  and  ennobled  by  the  ruling 
mind.  This  is  the  truly  Christian  and  only  perfect  system. 
Finally,  we  have  ornaments  expressing  the  endeavor  to 
equalise  the  executive  and  inventive, — endeavor  which  ia 
Renaissance  and  revolutionary,  and  destructive  of  all  noble 
architecture. 


fRBATMENT  OF  ORNAMEN1.  243 

§  xv.  Thus  far,  then,  of  the  incompleteness  or  simplicity 
of  execution  necessary  in  architectural  ornament,  as  referred 
to  the  mind.  Next  we  have  to  consider  that  which  is  re- 
quired when  it  is  referred  to  the  sight,  and  the  various  modi- 
fications  of  treatment  which  are  rendered  necessary  by  the 
variation  of  its  distance  from  the  eye.  I  say  necessary :  not 
merely  expedient  or  economical.  It  is  foolish  to  carve  what 
is  to  be  seen  forty  feet  off  with  the  delicacy  which  the  eye  de- 
mands within  two  yards  ;  not  merely  because  such  delicacy  is 
lost  in  the  distance,  but  because  it  is  a  great  deal  worse  than 
lost : — the  delicate  work  has  actually  worse  effect  in  the 
distance  than  rough  work.  This  is  a  fact  well  known  to 
painters,  and,  for  the  most  part,  acknowledged  by  the  critics 
of  painters,  namely,  that  there  is  a  certain  distance  for  which 
a  picture  is  painted  ;  and  that  the  finish,  which  is  delightful 
if  that  distance  be  small,  is  actually  injurious  if  the  distance 
be  great :  and,  moreover,  that  there  is  a  particular  method  of 
handling  which  none  but  consummate  artists  reach,  which  has 
its  effects  at  the  intended  distance,  and  is  altogether  hiero- 
glyphical  and  unintelligible  at  any  other.  This,  I  say,  is  ac- 
knowledged in  painting,  but  it  is  not  practically  acknowl- 
edged in  architecture  ;  nor  until  my  attention  was  espe- 
cially directed  to  it,  had  I  myself  any  idea  of  the  care  with 
which  this  great  question  was  studied  by  the  mediaeval  archi- 
tects. On  my  first  careful  examination  of  the  capitals  of 
the  upper  arcade  of  the  Ducal  Palace  at  Venice,  I  was  in- 
duced, by  their  singular  inferiority  of  workmanship,  to  sup- 
pose them  posterior  to  those  of  the  lower  arcade.  It  was  not 
till  I  discovered  that  some  of  those  which  I  thought  the 
worst  above,  were  the  best  when  seen  from  below,  that  I  ob- 
tained the  key  to  this  marvellous  system  of  adaptation  ;  a 
system  which  I  afterwards  found  carried  out  in  every  build- 
ing of  the  great  times  which  I  had  opportunity  of  examin- 
ing. 

§  xvr.  There  are  two  distinct  modes  in  which  this  adapta- 
tion is  effected.  In  the  first,  the  same  designs  which  are  deli- 
cately worked  when  near  the  eye,  are  rudely  out,  and  have  far 
fewer  details  when  they  are  removed  from  it.  lu  this  method 


244  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE.       • 

it  ifl  not  always  easy  to  distinguish  economy  from  skill,  01 
slovenliness  from  science.  But,  in  the  second  method,  a  dif- 
ferent design  is  adopted,  composed  of  fewer  parts  and  of  sim- 
pler lines,  and  this  is  cut  with  exquisite  precision.  This  is  of 
course  the  higher  method,  and  the  more  satisfactory  proof  of 
purpose  ;  but  an  equal  degree  of  imperfection  is  found  in  both 
kinds  when  they  are  seen  close  ;  in  the  first,  a  bald  execution 
of  a  perfect  design ;  the  second,  a  baldness  of  design  with 
perfect  execution.  And  in  these  very  imperfections  lies  the 
admirableness  of  the  ornament. 

§  xvn.  It  may  be  asked  whether,  in  advocating  this  adap^ 
tation  to  the  distance  of  the  eye,  I  obey  my  adopted  rule  of 
observance  of  natural  law.  Are  not  all  natural  things,  it  may 
be  asked,  as  lovely  near  as  far  away  ?  Nay,  not  so.  Look  at 
the  clouds,  and  watch  the  delicate  sculpture  of  their  alabaster 
sides,  and  the  rounded  lustre  of  their  magnificent  rolling. 
They  are  meant  to  be  beheld  far  away  ;  they  were  shaped  for 
their  place,  high  above  your  head ;  approach  them,  and  they 
fuse  into  vague  mists,  or  whirl  away  in  fierce  fragments  of 
thunderous  vapor.  Look  at  the  crest  of  the  Alp,  from  the 
far-away  plains  over  which  its  light  is  cast,  whence  human 
souls  have  communion  with  it  by  their  myriads.  The  child 
looks  up  to  it  in  the  dawn,  and  the  husbandman  in  the  burden 
and  heat  of  the  day,  and  the  old  man  in  the  going  down  of  the 
sun,  and  it  is  to  them  all  as  the  celestial  city  on  the  world's 
horizon  ;  dyed  with  the  depth  of  heaven,  and  clothed  with 
the  calm  of  eternity.  There  was  it  set,  for  holy  dominion, 
by  Him  who  marked  for  the  sun  his  journey,  and  bade  the 
moon  know  her  going  down.  It  was  built  for  its  place  in 
the  far-off  sky ;  approach  it,  and  as  the  sound  of  the  voice 
of  man  dies  away  about  its  foundations,  and  the  tide  of 
human  life  shallowed  upon  the  vast  aerial  shore,  is  at  last 
met  by  the  Etemal  "  Here  shall  thy  waves  be  stayed,"  the 
glory  of  its  aspect  fades  into  blanched  fearfulness  ;  its  pur- 
ple walls  are  rent  into  grisly  rocks,  its  silver  fretwork  sad" 
dened  into  wasting  snow,  the  storm-brands  of  ages  are  OP. 
its  breast,  the  ashes  of  its  own  ruin  lie  golemnly  on  its  white 
raiment. 


TREATMENT  OF  ORNAMENT.  345 

Nor  in  such  instances  as  these  alone,  though  strangely 
enough,  the  discrepancy  between  apparent  and  actual  beauty 
is  greater  in  proportion  to  the  unapproachableness  of  the 
object,  is  the  law  observed.  For  every  distance  from  the  eye 
there  is  a  peculiar  kind  of  beauty,  or  a  different  system  of 
lines  of  form  ;  the  sight  of  that  beauty  is  reserved  for  that 
distance,  and  for  that  alone.  If  you  approach  nearer,  that 
kind  of  beauty  is  lost,  and  another  succeeds,  to  be  disorgan- 
ised and  reduced  to  strange  and  incomprehensible  means  and 
appliances  in  its  turn.  If  you  desire  to  perceive  the  great 
harmonies  of  the  form  of  a  rocky  mountain,  you  must  not 
ascend  upon  its  sides.  All  is  there  disorder  and  accident,  or 
seems  so ;  sudden  starts  of  its  shattered  beds  hither  and 
thither ;  ugly  struggles  of  unexpected  strength  from  under 
the  ground  ;  fallen  fragments,  toppling  one  over  another  into 
more  helpless  fall  Retire  from  it,  and,  as  your  eye  commands 
it  more  and  more,  as  you  see  the  ruined  mountain  world  with 
a  wider  glance,  behold  !  dim  sympathies  begin  to  busy  them- 
selves in  the  disjointed  mass ;  line  binds  itself  into  stealthy 
fellowship  with  line  ;  group  by  group,  the  helpless  fragments 
gather  themselves  into  ordered  companies  ;  new  captains  of 
hosts  and  masses  of  battalions  become  visible,  one  by  one,  and 
far  away  answers  of  foot  to  foot,  and  of  bone  to  bone,  until 
the  powerless  chaos  is  seen  risen  up  with  girded  loins,  and 
not  one  piece  of  all  the  unregarded  heap  could  now  be  spared 
from  the  mystic  whole. 

§  xvra.  Now  it  is  indeed  true  that  where  nature  loses  one 
kind  of  beauty,  as  you  approach  it,  she  substitutes  another  ; 
this  is  worthy  of  her  infinite  power :  and,  as  we  shall  see,  art 
can  sometimes  follow  her  even  in  doing  this  ;  but  all  I  insist 
upon  at  present  is,  that  the  several  effects  of  nature  are  each 
worked  with  means  referred  to  a  particular  distance,  and  pro- 
ducing their  effect  at  that  distance  only.  Take  a  singular  and 
marked  instance  :  When  the  sun  rises  behind  a  ridge  of  pines, 
and  those  pines  are  seen  from  a  distance  of  a  mile  or  two, 
against  his  light,  the  whole  form  of  the  tree,  trunk,  branches, 
and  all,  becomes  one  frostwork  of  intensely  brilliant  silver, 
which  is  relieved  against  the  clear  sky  like  a  burning  fringt, 


246  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

for  some  distance  on  either  side  of  the  sun.*  Now  suppose 
that  a  person  who  had  never  seen  pines  were,  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  to  see  them  under  this  strange  aspect,  and,  reason- 
ing as  to  the  means  by  which  such  effect  could  be  produced, 
laboriously  to  approach  the  eastern  ridge,  how  would  he  be 
amazed  to  find  that  the  fiery  spectres  had  been  produced  by 
trees  with  swarthy  and  grey  trunks,  and  dark  green  leaves  I 
We,  in  our  simplicity,  if  we  had  been  required  to  produce  such 
an  appearance,  should  have  built  up  trees  of  chased  silver,  with 
trunks  of  glass,  and  then  been  grievously  amazed  to  find  that, 
at  two  miles  off,  neither  silver  nor  glass  were  any  more  visible ; 
but  nature  knew  better,  and  prepared  for  her  fairy  work  with 
the  strong  branches  and  dark  leaves,  in  her  own  mysterious 
way. 

§  xix.  Now  this  is  exactly  what  you  have  to  do  with  your 
good  ornament.  It  may  be  that  it  is  capable  of  being  ap- 
proached, as  well  as  likely  to  be  seen  far  away,  and  then  it 
ought  to  have  microscopic  qualities,  as  the  pine  leaves  have, 
which  will  bear  approach.  But  your  calculation  of  its  pur- 
pose is  for  a  glory  to  be  produced  at  a  given  distance  ;  it  may 
be  here,  or  may  be  there,  but  it  is  a  given  distance  ;  and  the 
excellence  of  the  ornament  depends  upon  its  fitting  that  dis- 
tance, and  being  seen  better  there  than  anywhere  else,  and 
having  a  particular  function  and  form  which  it  can  only  dis- 
charge and  assume  there.  You  are  never  to  say  that  ornament 
has  great  merit  because  "  you  cannot  see  the  beauty  of  it 
here  ; "  but,  it  has  great  merit  because  "  you  can  see  its  beauty 
here  only."  And  to  give  it  this  merit  is  just  about  as  difficult 
a  task  as  I  could  well  set  you.  I  have  above  noted  the  two 

*  Shakspeare  and  Wordsworth  (I  think  they  only)  have  noticed  this 
Shakspeare,  in  Richard  II.  : — 

"  But  when,  from  under  this  terrestrial  ball, 
He  fires  the  proud  tops  of  the  eastern  pines." 

And  Wordsworth,  in  one  of  his  minor  poems,  on  leaving  Italy : 

"  My  thoughts  become  bright  like  yon  edging  of  pines 
On  the  steep's  lofty  verge — how  it  blackened  the  air ! 
But,  touched  from  behind  by  the  sun,  it  now  shines 
With  threads  that  seem  part  oi'  his  own  silver  hair." 


TREATMENT  OF  ORNAMENT.  247 

ways  in  which  it  is  done :  the  one,  being  merely  rough  cut- 
ting, may  be  passed  over ;  the  other,  which  is  scientific  alter 
ation  of  design,  falls,  itself,  into  two  great  branches,  Simplifi- 
cation and  Emphasis. 

A  word  or  two  is  necessary  on  each  of  these  heads. 

§  xx.  When  an  ornamental  work  is  intended  to  be  seen 
near,  if  its  composition  be  indeed  fine,  the  subdued  and  deli- 
cate portions  of  the  design  lead  to,  and  unite,  the  energetic 
parts,  and  those  energetic  parts  form  with  the  rest  a  whole,  in 
which  their  own  immediate  relations  to  each  other  are  not  per- 
ceived. Remove  this  design  to  a  distance,  and  the  connecting 
delicacies  vanish,  the  energies  alone  remain,  now  either  dis- 
connected altogether,  or  assuming  with  each  other  new  rela- 
tions, which,  not  having  been  intended  by  the  designer,  will 
probably  be  painful.  There  is  a  like,  and  a  more  palpable, 
effect,  in  the  retirement  of  a  band  of  music  in  which  the  in- 
struments are  of  very  unequal  powers  ;  the  fluting  and  fifeing 
expire,  the  drumming  remains,  and  that  in  a  painful  arrange- 
ment, as  demanding  something  which  is  unheard.  In  like 
manner,  as  the  designer  at  arm's  length  removes  or  elevates 
his  work,  fine  gradations,  and  roundings,  and  incidents,  vanish, 
and  a  totally  unexpected  arrangement  is  established  between 
the  remainder  of  the  markings,  certainly  confused,  and  in  all 
probability  painful 

§  xxi.  The  art  of  architectural  design  is  therefore,  first,  the 
preparation  for  this  beforehand,  the  rejection  of  all  the  delicate 
passages  as  worse  than  useless,  and  the  fixing  the  thought  upon 
the  arrangement  of  the  features  which  will  remain  visible  far 
away.  Nor  does  this  always  imply  a  diminution  of  resource  ; 
for,  while  it  may  be  assumed  as  a  law  that  fine  modulation  of 
surface  in  light  becomes  quickly  invisible  as  the  object  retires, 
there  are  a  softness  and  mystery  given  to  the  harder  markings, 
which  enable  them  to  be  safely  used  as  media  of  expression. 
There  is  an  exquisite  example  of  this  use,  in  the  head  of  the 
Adam  of  the  Ducal  Palace.  It  is  only  at  the  height  of  17  or 
18  feet  above  the  eye  ;  nevertheless,  the  sculptor  felt  it  was  no 
use  to  trouble  himself  about  drawing  the  corners  of  the  mouth, 
or  the  lines  of  the  lips,  delicately,  at  that  distance  ;  his  object 


248  TEE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

has  been  to  mark  them  clearly,  and  to  prevent  accidental 
shadows  from  concealing  them,  or  altering  their  expression 
The  lips  are  cut  thin  and  sharp,  so  that  their  line  cannot  be 
mistaken,  and  a  good  deep  drill-hole  struck  into  the  angle  of 
the  mouth ;  the  eye  is  anxious  and  questioning,  and  one  is 
surprised,  from  below,  to  perceive  a  kind  of  darkness  in  the 
iris  of  it,  neither  like  color,  nor  like  a  circular  furrow.  The 
expedient  can  only  be  discovered  by  ascending  to  the  level  of 
the  head  ;  it  is  one  which  would  have  been  quite  inadmissible 
except  in  distant  work,  six  drill-holes  cut  into  the  iris,  round 
a  central  one  for  the  pupil. 

§  xxn.  By  just  calculation,  like  this,  of  the  means  at  our 
disposal,  by  beautiful  arrangement  of  the  prominent  features, 
and  by  choice  of  different  subjects  for  different  places,  choos- 
ing the  broadest  forms  for  the  farthest  distance,  it  is  possible 
to  give  the  impression,  not  only  of  perfection,  but  of  an  ex- 
quisite delicacy,  to  the  most  distant  ornament.  And  this  is 
the  true  sign  of  the  right  having  been  done,  and  the  utmost 
possible  power  attained  : — The  spectator  should  be  satisfied 
to  stay  in  his  place,  feeling  the  decoration,  wherever  it  may 
be,  equally  rich,  full,  and  lovely  :  not  desiring  to  climb  the 
steeples  in  order  to  examine  it,  but  sure  that  he  has  it  all, 
where  he  is.  Perhaps  the  capitals  of  the  cathedral  of  Genoa 
are  the  best  instances  of  absolute  perfection  in  this  kind  : 
seen  from  below,  they  appear  as  rich  as  the  frosted  silver  of 
the  Strada  degli  Orefici ;  and  the  nearer  you  approach  them, 
the  less  dek'cate  they  seem. 

§  xxm.  This  is,  however,  rot  the  only  mode,  though  the 
best,  in  which  ornament  is  adapted  for  distance.  The  other 
is  emphasis, — the  unnatural  insisting  upon  explanatory  lines, 
where  the  subject  would  otherwise  become  unintelligible.  It 
is  to  be  remembered  that,  by  a  deep  and  narrow  incision,  an 
architect  has  the  power,  at  least  in  sunshine,  of  drawing  a 
black  line  on  stone,  just  as  vigorously  as  it  can  be  drawn  with 
chalk  on  grey  paper ;  and  that  he  may  thus,  wherever  and 
in  the  degree  that  he  chooses,  substitute  chalk  ticetehing  for 
sculpture.  They  are  curiously  mingled  by  the  Romans.  The 
bas-reliefs  of  the  Arc  d'Orange  are  small,  and  would  be  con- 


TREATMENT  OF  ORNAMENT.        249 

fused,  though  in  bold  relief,  if  they  depended  for  intelligibility 
on  the  relief  only  ;  but  each  figure  is  outlined  by  a  strong 
incision  at  its  edge  into  the  background,  and  all  the  ornaments 
on  the  armor  are  simply  drawn  with  incised  lines,  and  not  cut 
out  at  all.  A  similar  use  of  lines  is  made  by  the  Gothic  na- 
tions in  all  their  early  sculpture,  and  with  delicious  effect. 
Now,  to  draw  a  mere  pattern — as,  for  instance,  the  bearings 
of  a  shield — with  these  simple  incisions,  would,  I  suppose, 
occupy  an  able  sculptor  twenty  minutes  or  half  an  hour  ;  and 
the  pattern  is  then  clearly  seen,  under  all  circumstances  of 
light  and  shade  ;  there  can  be  no  mistake  about  it,  and  no 
missing  it.  To  carve  out  the  bearings  in  due  and  finished 
relief  would  occupy  a  long  summer's  day,  and  the  results 
would  be  feeble  and  indecipherable  in  the  best  lights,  and  in 
some  lights  totally  and  hopelessly  invisible,  ignored,  non- 
existent. Now  the  Renaissance  architects,  and  our  modern 
ones,  despise  the  simple  expedient  of  the  rough  Roman  01 
barbarian.  They  do  not  care  to  be  understood.  They  care 
only  to  speak  finely,  and  be  thought  great  orators,  if  one 
could  only  hear  them.  So  I  leave  you  to  choose  between  the 
old  men,  who  took  minutes  to  tell  things  plainly,  and  the 
modern  men,  who  take  days  to  tell  them  unintelligibly. 

§  xxrv.  All  expedients  of  this  kind,  both  of  simplification 
and  energy,  for  the  expression  of  details  at  a  distance  where 
their  actual  forms  would  have  been  invisible,  but  more  es- 
pecially this  linear  method,  I  shall  call  Proutism  ;  for  the 
greatest  master  of  the  art  in  modern  times  has  been  Samuel 
Prout.  He  actually  takes  up  buildings  of  the  later  times  in 
which  the  ornament  has  been  too  refined  for  its  place,  and 
translates  it  into  the  energised  linear  ornament  of  earlier  art : 
and  to  this  power  of  taking  the  life  and  essence  of  decoration, 
and  putting  it  into  a  perfectly  intelligible  form,  when  its  own 
fulness  would  have  been  confused,  is  owing  the  especial  power 
of  his  drawings.  Nothing  can  be  more  closely  analogous  than 
the  method  with  which  an  old  Lombard  uses  his  chisel,  and 
that  with  which  Prout  uses  the  reed-pen  ;  and  we  shall  see 
presently  farther  correspondence  in  their  feeling  about  thf 
enrichment  of  luminous  surfaces. 


250  THE  STONES  OF    VENICE. 

§  xxv.  Now,  all  that  has  been  hitherto  said  refers  to  orna- 
ment whose  distance  is  fixed,  or  nearly  so ;  as  when  it  is  at 
any  considerable  height  from  the  ground,  supposing  the  spec- 
tator to  desire  to  see  it,  and  to  get  as  near  it  as  he  can.  But 
the  distance  of  ornament  is  never  fixed  to  the  general  specta- 
tor. The  tower  of  a  cathedral  is  bound  to  look  well,  ten  miles 
off,  or  five  miles,  or  half  a  mile,  or  within  fifty  yards.  The 
ornaments  of  its  top  have  fixed  distances,  compared  with  those 
of  its  base  ;  but  quite  unfixed  distances  in  their  relation  to  the 
great  world :  and  the  ornaments  of  the  base  have  no  fixed  dis- 
tance at  all.  They  are  bound  to  look  well  from  the  other  side 
of  the  cathedral  close,  and  to  look  equally  well,  or  better,  as 
we  enter  the  cathedral  door.  How  are  we  to  manage  this  ? 

§  xxvi.  As  nature  manages  it.  I  said  above,  §  xvn.,  that 
for  every  distance  from  the  eye  there  was  a  different  system 
of  form  in  all  natural  objects :  this  is  to  be  so  then  in  archi- 
tecture. The  lesser  ornament  is  to  be  grafted  on  the  greater, 
and  third  or  fourth  orders  of  ornaments  upon  this  again,  as 
need  may  be,  until  we  reach  the  limits  of  possible  sight ;  each 
order  of  ornament  being  adapted  for  a  different  distance  : 
first,  for  example,  the  great  masses, — the  buttresses  and  stories 
and  black  windows  and  broad  cornices  of  the  tower,  which 
give  it  make,  and  organism,  as  it  rises  over  the  horizon,  half  a 
score  of  miles  away :  then  the  traceries  and  shafts  and  pinna- 
cles, which  give  it  richness  as  we  approach  :  then  the  niches 
and  statues  and  knobs  and  flowers,  which  we  can  only  see 
when  we  stand  beneath  it.  At  this  third  order  of  ornament, 
we  may  pause,  in  the  upper  portions  ;  but  on  the  roofs  of  the 
niches,  and  the  robes  of  the  statues,  and  the  roUs  of  the 
mouldings,  comes  a  fourth  order  of  ornament,  as  delicate  as  the 
eye  can  follow,  when  any  of  these  features  may  be  approached. 

§  xxvii.  All  good  ornamentation  is  thus  arborescent,  as  it 
were,  one  class  of  it  branching  out  of  another  and  sustained 
by  it ;  and  its  nobility  consists  in  this,  that  whatever  order  oi 
class  of  it  we  may  be  contemplating,  we  shall  find  it  subor- 
dinated to  a  greater,  simpler,  and  more  powerful ;  and  if  we 
then  contemplate  the  greater  order,  we  shall  find  it  again  sub- 
ordinated to  a  greater  still ;  until  the  greatest  can  only  be 


TREATMENT  OF  ORNAMENT.  2ft i 

quite  grasped  by  retiring  to  the  limits  of  distance  command* 
ing  it 

And  if  this  subordination  be  not  complete,  the  ornament  ia 
bad  :  if  the  figurings  and  chasings  and  borderings  of  a  dresa 
be  not  subordinated  to  the  folds  of  it, — if  the  folds  are  not 
subordinate  to  the  action  and  mass  of  the  figure, — if  this 
action  and  mass  not  to  the  divisions  of  the  recesses  and  shafts 
among  which  it  stands, — if  these  not  to  the  shadows  of  the 
great  arches  and  buttresses  of  the  whole  building,  in  each 
case  there  is  error ;  much  more  if  all  be  contending  with  each 
other  and  striving  for  attention  at  the  same  time. 

§  xxvm.  It  is  nevertheless  evident,  that,  however  perfect 
this  distribution,  there  cannot  be  orders  adapted  to  every  dis- 
tance of  the  spectator.  Between  the  ranks  of  ornament  there 
must  always  be  a  bold  separation ;  and  there  must  be  many 
intermediate  distances,  where  we  are  too  far  off  to  see  the 
lesser  rank  clearly,  and  yet  too  near  to  grasp  the  next  higher 
rank  wholly  :  and  at  all  these  distances  the  spectator  will  feel 
himself  ill-placed,  and  will  desire  to  go  nearer  or  farther  away. 
This  must  be  the  case  in  all  noble  work,  natural  or  artificial. 
It  is  exactly  the  same  with  respect  to  Rouen  cathedral  or  the 
Mont  Blanc.  We  like  to  see  them  from  the  other  side  of  the 
Seine,  or  of  the  lake  of  Geneva  ;  from  the  March6  aux  Fleuit, 
or  the  Valley  of  Chamouni ;  from  the  parapets  of  the  apse,  or 
the  crags  of  the  Montagne  de  la  Cote :  but  there  are  interme- 
diate distances  which  dissatisfy  us  in  either  case,  and  from 
which  one  is  in  haste  either  to  advance  or  to  retire. 

§  xxix.  Directly  opposed  to  this  ordered,  disciplined,  well 
ofiicered  and  variously  ranked  ornament,  this  type  of  divine, 
and  therefore  of  all  good  human  government,  is  the  demo- 
cratic ornament,  in  which  all  is  equally  influential,  and  ha» 
equal  office  and  authority  ;  that  is  to  say,  none  of  it  any  office 
nor  authority,  but  a  life  of  continual  struggle  for  independence 
and  notoriety,  or  of  gambling  for  chance  regards.  The  Eng- 
lish perpendicular  work  is  by  far  the  worst  of  this  kind  that 
I  know  ;  its  main  idea,  or  decimal  fraction  of  an  idea,  being 
to  cover  its  walls  with  dull,  successive,  eternity  of  reticulation, 
to  till  with  equal  foils  the  equal  interstices  between  the  equal 


252  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

bars,  and  charge  the  interminable  blanks  with  statues  and 
rosettes,  invisible  at  a  distance,  and  uninteresting  near. 

The  early  Lombardic,  Veronese,  and  Norman  work  is  the 
exact  reverse  of  this  ;  being  divided  first  into  large  masses, 
and  these  masses  covered  with  minute  chasing  and  surface 
work,  which  fill  them  with  interest,  and  yet  do  not  disturb 
nor  divide  their  greatness.  The  lights  are  kept  broad  and 
bright,  and  yet  are  found  on  near  approach  to  be  charged 
with  intricate  design.  This,  again,  is  a  part  of  the  great  sys- 
tem of  treatment  which  I  shall  hereafter  call  "Proutism;" 
much  of  what  is  thought  mannerism  and  imperfection  in 
Prout's  work,  being  the  result  of  his  determined  resolution 
that  minor  details  shall  never  break  up  his  large  masses  of 
light. 

§  xxx.  Such  are  the  main  principles  to  be  observed  in  the 
adaptation  of  ornament  to  the  sight  We  have  lastly  to  in- 
quire by  what  method,  and  in  what  quantities,  the  ornament, 
thus  adapted  to  mental  comtemplation,  and  prepared  for  its 
physical  position,  may  most  wisely  be  arranged.  I  think  the 
method  ought  first  to  be  considered,  and  the  quantity  last ; 
for  the  advisable  quantity  depends  upon  the  method. 

§  xxxi.  It  was  said  above,  that  the  proper  treatment  or  ar- 
rangement of  ornament  was  that  which  expressed  the  laws 
and  ways  of  Deity.  Now,  the  subordination  of  visible  orders 
to  each  other,  just  noted,  is  one  expression  of  these.  But  there 
may  also — must  also — be  a  subordination  and  obedience  of 
the  parts  of  each  order  to  some  visible  law,  out  of  itself,  but 
having  reference  to  itself  only  (not  to  any  upper  order) : 
some  law  which  shall  not  oppress,  but  guide,  limit,  and  sus- 
tain. 

In  the  tenth  chapter  of  the  second  volume  of  "Modern 
Painters,"  the  reader  will  find  that  I  traced  one  part  of  the 
beauty  of  God's  creation  to  the  expression  of  a  seZ/'-restrained 
liberty  :  that  is  to  say,  the  image  of  that  perfection  of  divine 
action,  which,  though  free  to  work  in  arbitrary  methods,  work* 
always  in  consistent  methods,  called  by  us  Laws. 

Now,  correspondingly,  we  find  that  when  these  natural  ob 
jects  are  to  become  subjects  of  the  urt  of  man,  their  perfect 


TREATMENT  OF  ORNAMENT.  253 

treatment  is  an  image  of  the  perfection  of  human  action :  a 
voluntary  submission  to  divine  law. 

It  was  suggested  to  me  but  lately  by  the  friend  to  whose 
originality  of  thought  I  have  before  expressed  my  obligations, 
Mr.  Newton,  that  the  Greek  pediment,  with  its  enclosed  sculpt- 
ures, represented  to  the  Greek  mind  the  law  of  Fate,  con- 
fining human  action  within  limits  not  to  be  overpassed.  I  do 
not  believe  the  Greeks  ever  distinctly  thought  of  this ;  but 
the  instinct  of  all  the  human  race,  since  the  world  began, 
agrees  in  some  expression  of  such  limitation  as  one  of  the  first 
necessities  of  good  ornament*  And  this  expression  is  height- 
ened, rather  than  diminished,  when  some  portion  of  the  design 
slightly  breaks  the  law  to  which  the  rest  is  subjected  ;  it  is 
like  expressing  the  use  of  miracles  in  the  divine  government ; 
or,  perhaps,  in  slighter  degrees,  the  relaxing  of  a  law,  gener- 
ally imperative,  in  compliance  with  some  more  imperative 
need — the  hungering  of  David.  How  eagerly  this  special  in- 
fringement of  a  general  law  was  sometimes  sought  by  the 
mediaeval  workmen,  I  shall  be  frequently  able  to  point  out  to 
the  reader  ;  but  I  remember  just  now  a  most  curious  instance, 
in  an  archivolt  of  a  house  in  the  Corte  del  Remer  close  to  the 
Rialto  at  Venice.  It  is  composed  of  a  wreath  of  flower-work 
— a  constant  Byzantine  design — with  an  animal  in  each  coil ; 
the  whole  enclosed  between  two  fillets.  Each  animal,  leaping 
or  eating,  scratching  or  biting,  is  kept  nevertheless  strictly 
within  its  coil,  and  between  the  fillets.  Not  the  shake  of  an 
ear,  not  the  tip  of  a  tail,  overpasses  this  appointed  line,  through 
a  series  of  some  five-and-twenty  or  thirty  animals  ;  until,  on  a 
sudden,  and  by  mutual  consent,  two  little  beasts  (not  looking, 
for  the  rest,  more  rampant  than  the  others),  one  on  each  side, 
lay  their  small  paws  across  the  enclosing  fillet  at  exactly  the 
same  point  of  its  course,  and  thus  break  the  continuity  of  ita 
line.  Two  ears  of  corn,  or  leaves,  do  the  same  thing  in  the 

*  Some  valuable  remarks  on  this  subject  will  be  found  in  a  notice  of 
the  "  Seven  Lamps  '  in  the  British  Quarterly  for  August,  1849.  I  think, 
however,  the  writer  attaches  too  great  importance  to  one  ou.  of  many  OP 

camental  necessities. 


254  TEE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

mouldings  round  the  northern  door  of  the  Baptistery  at  Flor 
ence. 

§  xxxn.  Observe,  however,  and  this  is  of  the  utmost  pos- 
sible importance,  that  the  value  of  this  type  does  not  consist 
in  the  mere  shutting  of  the  ornament  into  a  certain  space,  but 
in  the  acknowledgment  by  the  ornament  of  the  fitness  of  the 
limitation — of  its  own  perfect  willingness  to  submit  to  it ;  nay, 
of  a  predisposition  in  itself  to  fall  into  the  ordained  form, 
without  any  direct  expression  of  the  command  to  do  so ;  an 
anticipation  of  the  authority,  and  an  instant  and  willing  sub- 
mission to  it,  in  every  fibre  and  spray :  not  merely  willing, 
but  happy  submission,  as  being  pleased  rather  than  vexed  to 
have  so  beautiful  a  law  suggested  to  it,  and  one  which  to  fol- 
low is  so  justly  in  accordance  with  its  own  nature.  You  must 
not  cut  out  a  branch  of  hawthorn  as  it  grows,  and  rule  a  tri- 
angle round  it,  and  suppose  that  it  is  then  submitted  to  law. 
Not  a  bit  of  it  It  is  only  put  in  a  cage,  and  will  look  as  if  it 
must  get  out,  for  its  life,  or  wither  in  the  confinement.  But 
the  spirit  of  triangle  must  be  put  into  the  hawthorn.  It  must 
suck  in  isoscelesism  with  its  sap.  Thorn  and  blossom,  leaf 
and  spray,  must  grow  with  an  awful  sense  of  triangular  neces- 
sity upon  them,  for  the  guidance  of  which  they  are  to  be 
thankful,  and  to  grow  all  the  stronger  and  more  gloriously. 
And  though  there  may  be  a  transgression  here  and  there,  and 
an  adaptation  to  some  other  need,  or  a  reaching  forth  to  some 
other  end  greater  even  than  the  triangle,  yet  this  liberty  is  to 
be  always  accepted  under  a  solemn  sense  of  special  permis- 
sion ;  and  when  the  full  form  is  reached  and  the  entire  sub- 
mission expressed,  and  every  blossom  has  a  thrilling  sense  of 
its  reponsibility  down  into  its  tiniest  stamen,  you  may  take 
your  terminal  line  away  if  you  will  No  need  for  it  any  more. 
The  commandment  is  written  on  the  heart  of  the  thing. 

§  xxxin.  Then,  besides  this  obedience  to  external  law,  there 
is  the  obedience  to  internal  headship,  which  constitutes  the 
unity  of  ornament,  of  which  I  think  enough  has  been  said  foU 
my  present  purpose  in  the  chapter  on  Unity  in  the  second 
vol.  of  "Modern  Painters."  But  I  hardly  know  whether  to 
arrange  as  an  expression  of  a  divine  law,  or  a  representation 


TREATMENT  OF  ORNAMENT.  255 

of  a  physical  fact,  the  alternation  of  shade  with  light  which, 
in  equal  succession,  forms  one  of  the  chief  elements  of  contin- 
uous ornament,  and  in  some  peculiar  ones,  such  as  dentils  and 
billet  mouldings,  is  the  source  of  their  only  charm.  The  op- 
position of  good  and  evil,  the  antagonism  of  the  entire  human 
system  (so  ably  worked  out  by  Lord  Lindsay),  the  alternation 
of  labor  with  rest,  the  mingling  of  life  with  death,  or  the 
actual  physical  fact  of  the  division  of  light  from  darkness,  and 
of  the  falling  and  rising  of  night  and  day,  are  all  typified  or 
represented  by  these  chains  of  shade  and  light  of  which  the 
eye  never  wearies,  though  their  true  meaning  may  never  occur 
to  the  thoughts. 

§  xxxiv.  The  next  question  respecting  the  arrangement  of 
ornament  is  one  closely  connected  also  with  its  quantity.  The 
system  of  creation  is  one  in  which  "  God's  creatures  leap  not, 
but  express  a  feast,  where  all  the  guests  sit  close,  and  nothing 
wants."  It  is  also  a  feast,  where  there  is  nothing  redundant. 
So,  then,  in  distributing  our  ornament,  there  must  never  be 
any  sense  of  gap  or  blank,  neither  any  sense  of  there  being  a 
single  member,  or  fragment  of  a  member,  which  could  be 
spared.  Whatever  has  nothing  to  do,  whatever  could  go  with- 
out being  missed,  is  not  ornament ;  it  is  deformity  and  en- 
cumbrance. Away  with  it.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  care 
must  be  taken  either  to  diffuse  the  ornament  which  we  permit, 
in  due  relation  over  the  whole  building,  or  so  to  concentrate 
it,  as  never  to  leave  a  sense  of  its  having  got  into  knots,  and 
curdled  upon  some  points,  and  left  the  rest  of  the  building 
whey.  It  is  very  difficult  to  give  the  rules,  or  analyse  the 
feelings,  which  should  direct  us  in  this  matter:  for  some 
shafts  may  be  carved  and  others  left  unfinished,  and  that  with 
advantage  ;  some  windows  may  be  jewelled  like  Aladdin's, 
and  one  left  plain,  and  still  with  advantage  ;  the  door  or  doors, 
or  a  single  turret,  or  the  whole  western  fa£ade  of  a  church, 
or  the  apse  or  transept,  may  be  made  special  subjects  of  de- 
coration, and  the  rest  left  plain,  and  still  sometimes  with  ad- 
vantage. But  in  all  such  cases  there  is  either  sign  of  that 
feeling  which  I  advocated  in  the  First  Chapter  of  the  "  Seven 
Lamps,"  the  desire  of  rather  doing  borne  portion  of  the  build- 


256  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

ing  as  we  would  have  it,  and  leaving  the  rest  plain,  than  doing 
the  whole  imperfectly ;  or  else  there  is  choice  made  of  some 
important  feature,  to  which,  as  more  honorable  than  the  rest, 
the  decoration  is  confined.  The  evil  is  when,  without  system, 
and  without  preference  of  the  nobler  members,  the  ornament 
alternates  between  sickly  luxuriance  and  sudden  blankness. 
In,  many  of  our  Scotch  and  English  abbeys,  especially  Melrose, 
this  is  painfully  felt ;  but  the  worst  instance  I  have  ever  seen 
is  the  window  in  the  side  of  the  arch  under  the  Wellington 
statue,  »ext  St.  George's  Hospital.  In  the  first  place,  a  win- 
dow has  no  business  there  at  all ;  in  the  second,  the  bars  of 
the  window  are  not  the  proper  place  for  decoration,  especially 
wavy  decoration,  which  one  instantly  fancies  of  cast  iron  ;  in 
the  third,  the  richness  of  the  ornament  is  a  mere  patch  and 
eruption  upon  the  wall,  and  one  hardly  knows  whether  to  be 
most  irritated  at  the  affectation  of  severity  in  the  rest,  or  at 
the  vain  luxuriance  of  the  dissolute  parallelogram. 

§  xxxv.  Finally,  as  regards  quantity  of  ornament  I  have 
already  said,  again  and  again,  you  cannot  have  too  much  if  it 
be  good  ;  that  is,  if  it  be  thoroughly  united  and  harmonised  by 
the  laws  hitherto  insisted  upon.  But  you  may  easily  have  too 
much  if  you  have  more  than  you  have  sense  to  manage.  For 
with  every  added  order  of  ornament  increases  the  difficulty  oi 
discipline.  It  is  exactly  the  same  as  in  war :  you  cannot,  as 
an  abstract  law,  have  too  many  soldiers,  but  you  may  easily 
have  more  than  the  country  is  able  to  sustain,  or  than  your 
generalship  is  competent  to  command.  And  every  regiment 
which  you  cannot  manage  will,  on  the  day  of  battle,  be  in 
your  way,  and  encumber  the  movements  it  is  not  in  disposi- 
tion to  sustain. 

§  xxxvi.  As  an  architect,  therefore,  you  are  modestly  to 
measure  your  capacity  of  governing  ornament.  Remember, 
its  essence, — its  being  ornament  at  all,  consists  in  its  being 
governed.  Lose  your  authority  over  it,  let  it  command  you, 
or  lead  you,  or  dictate  to  you  in  any  wise,  and  it  is  an  offence, 
an  incumbrance,  and  a  dishonor.  And  it  is  always  ready  to 
do  this  ;  wild  to  get  the  bit  in  its  teeth,  and  rush  forth  on  ita 
own  devices.  Measure,  therefore,  your  strength ;  and  as  long 


THE  ANOLB.  257 

as  there  is  no  chance  of  mutiny,  add  soldier  to  soldier,  bat- 
talion to  battalion  ;  but  be  assured  that  all  are  heartily  in  the 
cause,  and  that  there  is  not  one  of  whose  position  you  are  ig- 
norant, or  whose  service  you  could  spare. 


CHAPTER 

THE    ANGLE. 

§  i.  WE  have  now  examined  the  treatment  and  specific 
kinds  of  ornament  at  our  command.  We  have  lastly  to  note 
the  fittest  places  for  their  disposal.  Not  but  that  all  kinds  of 
ornament  are  used  in  all  places  ;  but  there  are  some  parts  of 
the  building,  which,  without  ornament,  are  more  painful  than 
others,  and  some  which  wear  ornament  more  gracefully  than 
others  ;  so  that,  although  an  able  architect  will  always  be  find- 
ing out  some  new  and  unexpected  modes  of  decoration,  and 
fitting  his  ornament  into  wonderful  places  where  it  is  least  ex- 
pected, there  are,  nevertheless,  one  or  two  general  laws  which 
may  be  noted  respecting  every  one  of  the  parts  of  a  building, 
laws  not  (except  a  few)  imperative  like  those  of  construction, 
but  yet  generally  expedient,  and  good  to  be  understood,  if  it 
were  only  that  we  might  enjoy  the  brilliant  methods  in  which 
they  are  sometimes  broken.  I  shall  note,  however,  only  a  few 
of  the  simplest ;  to  trace  them  into  their  ramifications,  and 
class  in  due  order  the  known  or  possible  methods  of  decoration 
for  each  part  of  a  building,  would  alone  require  a  large  vol- 
ume, and  be,  I  think,  a  somewhat  useless  work  ;  for  there  is 
often  a  high  pleasure  in  the  very  unexpectedness  of  the  orna- 
ment, which  would  be  destroyed  by  too  elaborate  an  arrange- 
ment of  its  kinda 

§  n.  I  think  that  the  reader  must,  by  this  time,  so  thor- 
oughly understand  the  connection  of  the  parts  of  a  building, 
that  I  may  class  together,  in  treating  of  decoration,  several 
parts  which  I  kept  separate  in  speaking  of  construction.  Thus 
I  shall  put  under  one  head  (A)  the  base  of  the  wall  and  of  the 
shaft ;  then  (B)  the  wall  veil  and  shaft  itself  ;  then  (c)  th« 
u'o  and  capital  ;  then  (D)  the  jamb  and  archivolt,  iuclud* 

Stones  of  Venice— VoL  L— 18 


358  THE  STONES  OF    VENICE. 

ing  the  arches  both  over  shafts  and  apertures,  and  the  jambs 
of  apertures,  which  are  closely  connected  with  their  archivolts ; 
finally  (E)  the  roof,  including  the  real  roof,  and  the  minor  roofs 
or  gables  of  pinnacles  and  arches.  I  think,  under  these  divis- 
ions, all  may  be  arranged  which  is  necessary  to  be  generally 
stated ;  for  tracery  decorations  or  aperture  fillings  are  but 
smaller  forms  of  application  of  the  arch,  and  the  cusps  are 
merely  smaller  spandrils,  while  buttresses  have,  as  far  as  I 
know,  no  specific  ornament.  The  best  are  those  which  have 
least ;  and  the  little  they  have  resolves  itself  into  pinnacles, 
which  are  common  to  other  portions  of  the  building,  or  into 
small  shafts,  arches,  and  niches,  of  still  more  general  applica- 
bility. We  shall  therefore  have  only  five  divisions  to  examine 
in  succession,  from  foundation  to  roof. 

§  m.  But  in  the  decoration  of  these  several  parts,  certain 


minor  conditions  of  ornament  occur  which  are  of  perfectly 
general  application.  For  instance,  whether,  in  archivolts, 
jambs,  or  buttresses,  or  in  square  piers,  or  at  the  extremity 
of  the  entire  building,  we  necessarily  have  the  awkward 
(moral  or  architectural)  feature,  the  corner.  How  to  turn  a 
corner  gracefully  becomes,  therefore,  a  perfectly  general  ques- 
tion ;  to  be  examined  without  reference  to  any  particular  part 
of  the  edifice. 

§  iv.  Again,  the  furrows  and  ridges  by  which  bars  of  paral- 
lel light  and  shade  are  obtained,  whether  these  are  employed 
in  arches,  or  jambs,  or  bases,  or  cornices,  must  of  necessity 
present  one  or  more  of  six  forms  :  square  projection,  a  (Fig. 
LL),  or  square  recess,  6,  sharp  projection,  c,  or  sharp  recess,  d, 
curved  projection,  e,  or  curved  recess,/!  What  odd  curves  the 
projection  or  recess  may  assume,  or  how  these  different  condi- 
tions may  be  mixed  and  run  into  one  another,  is  not  our  pres« 
•nt  business,  We  note  only  the  six  distinct  kinds  or  types. 


THE  ANGLE.  259 

Now,  when  these  ridges  or  furrows  are  on  a  small  scale  they 
often  themselves  constitute  all  the  ornament  required  for 
larger  features,  and  are  left  smooth  cut ;  but  on  a  very  large 
scale  they  are  apt  to  become  insipid,  and  they  require  a  sub- 
ornament  of  their  own,  the  consideration  of  which  is,  of  course, 
in  great  part,  general,  and  irrespective  of  the  place  held  by  the 
mouldings  in  the  building  itself  :  which  consideration  I  think 
we  had  better  undertake  first  of  all 

§  v.  But  before  we  come  to  particular  examination  of  these 
minor  forms,  let  us  see  how  far  we  can  simplify  it.  Look 
back  to  Fig.  LL,  above.  There  are  distinguished  in  it  six 
forms  of  moulding.  Of  these,  c  is  nothing  but  a  email  corner ; 
but,  for  convenience  sake,  it  is  better  to  call  it  an  edge,  and  to 
consider  its  decoration  together  with  that  of  the  member  a, 
which  is  called  a  fillet ;  while  e,  which  I  shall  call  a  roll  (be- 
cause I  do  not  choose  to  assume  that  it  shall  be  only  of  the 
semicircular  section  here  given),  is  also  best  considered  to- 
gether with  its  relative  recess,/;  and  because  the  shape  of  a 
recess  is  of  no  great  consequence,  I  shall  class  all  the  three 
recesses  together,  and  we  shall  thus  have  only  three  subjects 
for  separate  consideration : — 

1.  The  Angle. 

2.  The  Edge  and  Fillet 

3.  The  Koll  and  Becess. 

§  VL  There  are  two  other  general  forms  which  may  prob- 
ably occur  to  the  reader's  mind,  namely,  the  ridge  (as  of  a 
roof),  which  is  a  corner  laid  on  its  back,  or  sloping, — a  supine 
corner,  decorated  in  a  very  different  manner  from  a  stiff  up- 
right corner :  and  the  point,  which  is  a  concentrated  corner, 
and  has  wonderfully  elaborate  decorations  all  to  its  insignifi- 
cant self,  finials,  and  spikes,  and  I  know  not  what  more. 
But  both  these  conditions  are  so  closely  connected  with  roofs 
(even  the  cusp  finial  being  a  kind  of  pendant  to  a  small  roof), 
that  I  tli ink  it  better  to  class  them  and  their  ornament  under 
the  head  of  roof  decoration,  together  with  the  whole  tribe  of 
crockets  and  bosses  ;  so  that  we  shall  be  here  concerned  only 


260  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

with  the  three  subjects  above  distinguished :  and,  first,  th« 
corner  or  Angle. 

§  vn.  The  mathematician  knows  there  are  many  kinds  of 
angles  ;  but  the  one  we  have  principally  to  deal  with  now,  is 
that  which  the  reader  may  very  easily  conceive  as  the  corner 
of  a  square  house,  or  square  anything.  It  is  of  course  the 
one  of  most  frequent  occurrence  ;  and  its  treatment,  once 
understood,  may,  with  slight  modification,  be  referred  tc 
other  corners,  sharper  or  blunter,  or  with  curved  sides. 

§  vm.  Evidently  the  first  and  roughest  idea  which  would 

occur  to  any  one  who  found  a 

P  corner  troublesome,   would  be 

j  to  cut  it  of£    Tliis  is  a  very  sum- 

PP     mary   and  tyrannical  proceed- 
i  ing,    somewhat    barbarous,  yet 

Plo  jj^  advisable  if  nothing  else  can  be 

done  :  an  amputated  corner  is 

said  to  be  chamfered.  It  can,  however,  evidently  be  cut  off 
in  three  ways :  1.  with  a  concave  cut,  a  ;  2.  with  a  straight 
cut,  b ;  3.  with  a  convex  cut,  c,  Fig.  LIE. 

The  first  two  methods,  the  most  violent  and  summary,  have 
the  apparent  disadvantage  that  we  get  by  them, — two  corners 
instead  of  one ;  much  milder  corners,  however,  and  with  a 
different  light  and  shade  between  them  ;  so  that  both  meth- 
ods are  often  very  expedient.  You  may  see  the  straight 
chamfer  (b)  on  most  lamp  posts,  and  pillars  at  railway  sta- 
tions, it  being  the  easiest  to  cut :  the  concave  chamfer  requires 
more  care,  and  occurs  generally  in  well-finished  but  simple 
architecture — very  beautifully  in  the  small  arches  of  the  Bro- 
letto  of  Como,  Plate  V.  ;  and  the  straight  chamfer  in  archi- 
tecture of  every  kind,  very  constantly  in  Norman  cornices  and 
arches,  as  in  Fig.  2,  Plate  IV.,  at  Sena 

§  rx.  The  third,  or  convex  chamfer,  as  it  is  the  gentlest 
mode  of  treatment,  so  (as  in  medicine  and  morals)  it  is  very 
generally  the  best.  For  while  the  two  other  methods  produce 
two  corners  instead  of  one,  this  gentle  chamfer  does  verily 
get  rid  of  the  corner  altogether,  and  substitutes  a  soft  curve  uj 
it*  place. 


THE  ANGLE. 


261 


But  it  has,  m  the  form  above  given,  this  grave  disadvantage, 
that  it  looks  as  if  the  corner  had  been  rubbed  or  worn  off, 
blunted  by  time  and  weather,  and  in  want  of  sharpening  again. 
A  great  deal  often  depends,  and  in  such  a  case  as  this,  every- 
thing depends,  on  the  Voluntariness  of  the  ornament.  The 
work  of  time  is  beautiful  on  surfaces,  but  not  on  edges  intended 
to  be  sharp.  Even  if  we  needed  them  blunt,  we  should  not 
like  them  blunt  on  compulsion ;  so,  to  show  that  the  bluntness 
is  our  own  ordaining,  we  will  put  a  slight  incised  line  to  mark 
off  the  rounding,  and  show  that  it  goes  no  farther  than  we 


PIO.  Lin. 


choose.  We  shall  thus  have  the  section  a,  Fig.  LTTT. ;  and 
this  mode  of  turning  an  angle  is  one  of  the  very  best  ever  in- 
vented. By  enlarging  and  deepening  the  incision,  we  get  in 
succession  the  forms  6,  c,  d  ;  and  by  describing  a  small  equaj 
arc  on  each  of  the  sloping  lines  of  these  figures,  we  get  e,  f, 
9,h. 

§  x.  I  do  not  know  whether  these  mouldings  are  called  by 
architects  chamfers  or  beads ;  but  I  think  bead  a  bad  word  for 
a  continuous  moulding,  and  the  proper  sense  of  the  word 
chamfer  is  fixed  by  Spenser  as  descriptive  not  merely  of  tnu> 
eation,  but  of  trench  or  furrow : — • 


TEE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 


"  Tho  gin  you,  fond  flies,  the  cold  to  scorn, 
And,  crowing  in  pipes  made  of  green  corn, 
You  thinken  to  be  lords  of  the  year  ; 
But  eft  when  ye  count  you  freed  from  fear, 
Comes  the  breme  winter  with  chamfred  brow», 
Full  of  wrinkles  and  frosty  furrows.'' 

So  I  shall  call  the  above  mouldings  beaded  chamfers,  when 
there  is  any  chance  of  confusion  with  the  plain  chamfer,  a,  or 
6,  of  Fig.  TJT.  :  and  when  there  is  no  such  chance,  I  shall  use 
the  word  chamfer  only. 

§  xi.  Of  those  above  given,  6  is  the  constant  chamfer  of 

Venice,  and  a  of  Verona  : 
a  being  the  grandest  and 
r  best,  and  having  a  pecu- 
liar precision  and  quaint- 
ness  of  effect  about  it.  I 
found  it  twice  in  Venice, 
used  on  the  sharp  angle, 
as  at  a  and  6,  Fig.  LTV.,  a 
being  from  the  angle  of  a 
house  on  the  Rio  San 
Zulian,  and  b  from  the 
windows  of  the  church  of 
San  Stefano. 

§  xn.  There  is,  how- 
ever, evidently  another 
variety  of  the  chamfers} 
yand  g,  Fig.  TJTT.,  form- 
ed by  an  unbroken  curve 

PIO.  LIV.  instead  of  two  curves,  aa 

c,    Fig.  LTV.  ;  and  when 

this,  or  the  chamfer  d,  Fig.  LUL,  is  large,  it  is  impossible  to  say 
whether  they  have  been  devised  from  the  incised  angle,  or  from 
small  shafts  set  in  a  nook,  as  at  e,  Fig.  LTV.,  or  in  the  hollow 
of  the  curved  chamfer,  as  d,  Fig.  LTV.  In  general,  however,  the 
shallow  chamfers,  a,  b,  e,  and/,  Fig.  LUL,  are  peculiar  to  south- 
ern work  ;  and  may  be  assumed  to  have  been  derived  from  the 
incised  angle,  while  the  deep  chamfers,  c,  d,  g,  h,  are  charac 


TBS  AyQLS.  263 


teristic  of  northern  work,  and  may  be  partly  derived  or  imi- 
tated from  the  angle  shaft ;  while,  with  the  usual  extrava- 
gance of  the  northern  architects,  they  are  cut  deeper  and 
deeper  until  we  arrive  at  the  condition  f,  Fig.  LTV.,  which 
is  the  favorite  chamfer  at  Bourges  and  Bayeux,  and  in  other 
good  French  work. 

I  have  placed  in  the  Appendix  *  a  figure  belonging  to  thie 
subject,  but  which  cannot  interest  the  general  reader,  show- 
ing the  number  of  possible  chamfers  with  a  roll  moulding  of 
given  size. 

§  xin.  If  we  take  the  plain  chamfer,  b,  of  Fig.  LIL,  on  a 
large  scale,  as  at  a,  Fig.  LV.,  and  bead  both  its  edges,  cutting 
away  the  parts  there  shaded,  we  shall  have  a  form  much  used 
in  richly  decorated  Gothic,  both  in  Fjngland  and  Italy.  It 
might  be  more  simply  described  as  the  chamfer  a  of  Fig.  LLL, 
with  an  incision  on  each  edge  ;  but  the  part  here  shaded  is 
often  worked  into  ornamental  forms,  not  being  entirely  cut 
away. 

§  xiv.  Many  other  mouldings,  which  at  first  sight  appeal 
very  elaborate,  are 
nothing  more  than  a 
chamfer,  with  a  series 
of  small  echoes  of  it 
on  each  side,  dying 
away  with  a  ripple  on 
the  surface  of  the  wall, 
as  in  b,  Fig.  LV.,  from  a 

n  ,    i  Fia   LV. 

Coutances      (observe, 

here  the  white  part  is  the  solid  stone,  the  shade  is  cut  away.) 
Chamfers  of  this  kind  are  used  on  a  small  scale  and  in  deli- 
cate work  ;  the  coarse  chamfers  are  found  on  all  scales  :  /  and 
y,  Fig.  Lin.,  in  Venice,  form  the  great  angles  of  almost  every 
Gothic  palace  ;  the  roll  being  a  foot  or  a  foot  and  a  hah*  round, 
and  treated  as  a  shaft,  with  a  capital  and  fresh  base  at  every 
story,  while  the  stones  of  which  it  is  composed  form  alternate 
quoins  in  the  brick-work  beyond  the  chamfer  curve,  I  need 

*  Appendix  23 :"  Varieties  of  Chamfer.'" 


264  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

hardly  say  how  much  nobler  this  arrangement  is  than  a  com- 
mon quoined  angle  ;  it  gives  a  finish  to  the  aspect  of  the 
whole  pile  attainable  in  no  other  way.  And  thus  much  may 
serve  concerning  angle  decoration  by  chamfer. 


CHAPTER   YTTTT. 

THE   EDGE   AND   FILLET. 

§  L  THE  decoration  of  the  angle  by  various  forms  of  cham- 
fer and  bead,  as  above  described,  is  the  quietest  method  we 
can  employ  ;  too  quiet,  when  great  energy  is  to  be  given  to 
the  moulding,  and  impossible,  when,  instead  of  a  bold  angle, 
we  have  to  deal  with  a  small  projecting  edge,  like  c  in  Fig.  LL 
In  such  cases  we  may  employ  a  decoration,  far  ruder  and 
easier  in  its  simplest  conditions  than  the  bead,  far  more  effec- 
tive when  not  used  in  too  great  profusion  ;  and  of  which  the 
complete  developments  are  the  source  of  mouldings  at  once 
the  most  picturesque  and  most  serviceable  which  the  Gothic 
builders  invented. 

§  n.  The  gunwales  of  the  Venetian  heavy  barges  being 
liable  to  somewhat  rough  collision  with  each  other,  and  with 
the  walls  of  the  streets,  are  generally  protected  by  a  piece  of 
timber,  which  projects  in  the  form  of  the  fillet,  a,  Fig.  LI.  ; 
but  which,  like  all  other  fillets,  may,  if  we  so  choose,  be  con- 
sidered as  composed  of  two  angles  or  edges,  which  the  natural 
and  most  wholesome  love  of  the  Venetian  boatmen  for  orna- 
ment, otherwise  strikingly  evidenced  by  their  painted  sails 
and  glittering  flag-vanes,  will  not  suffer  to  remain  wholly 
undecorated.  The  rough  service  of  these  timbers,  however, 
will  not  admit  of  rich  ornament,  and  the  boatbuilder  usually 
contents  himself  with  cutting  a  series  of  notches  in  each  edge, 
one  series  alternating  with  the  other,  as  represented  at  1, 
Plate  IX. 

§  m.  In  that  simple  ornament,  not  as  confined  to  Venetian 
boats,  but  as  representative  of  a  general  human  instinct  to 
hack  at  an  edge,  demonstrated  by  all  school-boys  and  all  idle 


rr  r 


—  { — :  » 
*1-1 


>      > 


PLATE  IX.— EDGE  DECOKATION. 


THE  EDGE  AND  FILLET.  2«l 

possessors  of  penknives  or  other  cutting  instruments  on  both 
sides  of  the  Atlantic  ; — in  that  rude  Venetian  gunwale,  I  say, 
is  the  germ  of  all  the  ornament  which  has  touched,  with  its 
rich  successions  of  angular  shadow,  the  portals  and  archivolta 
Ol  nearly  every  early  building  of  importance,  from  the  North 
Cape  to  the  Straits  of  Messina.  Nor  are  the  modifications  of 
the  first  suggestion  intricate.  All  that  is  generic  in  their 
character  may  be  seen  on  Plate  IX.  at  a  glance. 

§  iv.  Taking  a  piece  of  stone  instead  of  timber,  and  enlarg- 
ing the  notches,  until  they  meet  each  other,  we  have  the  con- 
dition 2,  which  is  a  moulding  from  the  tomb  of  the  Doge 
Andrea  Dandolo,  in  St.  Mark's.  Now,  considering  this  mould- 
ing as  composed  of  two  decorated  edges,  each  edge  will  be 
reduced,  by  the  meeting  of  the  notches,  to  a  series  of  four- 
sided  pyramids  (as  marked  off  by  the  dotted  lines),  which, 
the  notches  here  being  shallow,  will  be  shallow  pyramids; 
but  by  deepening  the  notches,  we  get  them  as  at  3,  with  a 
profile  a,  more  or  less  steep.  This  moulding  I  shall  always 
call  "  the  plain  dogtooth  ; "  it  is  used  in  profusion  in  the  Ve- 
netian and  Veronese  Gothic,  generally  set  with  its  front  to  the 
spectator,  as  here  at  3  ;  but  its  effect  may  be  much  varied  by 
placing  it  obliquely  (4,  and  profile  as  at  b) ;  or  with  one  side 
horizontal  (5,  and  profile  c).  Of  these  three  conditions,  3  and 
5  are  exactly  the  same  in  reality,  only  differently  placed  ;  but 
in  4  the  pyramid  is  obtuse,  and  the  inclination  of  its  base  va- 
riable, the  upper  side  of  it  being  always  kept  vertical  It  is 
comparatively  rare.  Of  the  three,  the  last,  5,  is  far  the  most 
brilliant  in  effect,  giving  in  the  distance  a  zigzag  form  to  the 
high  light  on  it,  and  a  full  sharp  shadow  below.  The  use  of 
this  shadow  is  sufficiently  seen  by  fig.  7  in  this  plate  (the  arch 
on  the  left,  the  number  beneath  it),  in  which  these  levelled 
dogteeth,  with  a  small  interval  between  each,  are  employed  to 
set  off  by  their  vigor  the  delicacy  of  floral  ornament  above. 
This  arch  is  the  side  of  a  niche  from  the  tomb  of  Can  Signorio 
della  Scala,  at  Verona ;  and  the  value,  as  well  as  the  distant 
expression  of  its  dogtooth,  may  be  seen  by  referring  to  Prout's 
beautiful  drawing  of  this  tomb  in  his  "  Sketches  in  France 
Mid  Italy."  I  have  before  observed  that  this  artist  never  fails 


of  seizing  the  true  and  leading  expression  of  whatever  h« 
touches  :  he  has  made  this  ornament  the  leading  feature  of  the 
niche,  expressing  it,  as  in  distance  it  is  only  expressible,  by  a 
zigzag. 

§  v.  The  reader  may  perhaps  be  surprised  at  my  speaking 
so  highly  of  this  drawing,  if  he  take  the  pains  to  compare 
Prout's  symbolism  of  the  work  on  the  niche  with  the  facts  as 
they  stand  here  in  Plate  IX.  But  the  truth  is  that  Prout  has 
rendered  the  effect  of  the  monument  on  the  mind  of  the  passer- 
by ; — the  effect  it  was  intended  to  have  on  every  man  who 
turned  the  corner  of  the  street  beneath  it :  and  in  this  sense 
there  is  actually  more  truth  and  likeness  *  in  Prout's  transla- 
tion than  in  my  fac-simile,  made  diligently  by  peering  into  the 
details  from  a  ladder.  I  do  not  say  that  all  the  symbolism  in 
Prout's  Sketch  is  the  best  possible  ;  but. it  is  the  best  which 
any  architectural  draughtsman  has  yet  invented  ;  and  in  its 
application  to  special  subjects  it  always  shows  curious  internal 
evidence  that  the  sketch  has  been  made  on  the  spot,  and  that 
the  artist  tried  to  draw  what  he  saw,  not  to  invent  an  attrac- 
tive subject.  I  shall  notice  other  instances  of  this  hereafter. 

§  VL  The  dogtooth,  employed  in  this  simple  form,  is,  how- 
ever, rather  a  foil  for  other  ornament,  than  itself  a  satisfactory 
or  generally  available  decoration.  It  is,  however,  easy  to  en 
rich  it  as  we  choose  :  taking  up  its  simple  form  at  3,  and  de- 
scribing the  arcs  marked  by  the  dotted  lines  upon  its  sides, 
and  cutting  a  small  triangular  cavity  between  them,  we  shall 
leave  its  ridges  somewhat  rudely  representative  of  four  leaves, 
as  at  8,  which  is  the  section  and  front  view  of  one  of  the  Ve- 
netian stone  cornices  described  above,  Chap.  XTV.,  §  rv.,  the 
figure  8  being  here  put  in  the  hollow  of  the  gutter.  The  dog- 
tooth is  put  on  the  outer  lower  truncation,  and  is  actually  in 
position  as  fig.  5  ;  but  being  always  looked  up  to,  is  to  the 
spectator  as  3,  and  always  rich  and  effective.  The  dogteeth 
are  perhaps  most  frequently  expanded  to  the  width  of  fig.  9. 

*  I  do  not  here  speak  of  artistical  merits,  but  the  play  of  the  lighi 
among  the  lower  shafts  is  also  singularly  beautiful  in  this  sketch  of 
Prout's,  and  the  character  of  the  wild  and  broken  leaves,  half  dead,  of 
tbe  btone  of  the  foreground. 


THE  EDGE  AXD  FILLET.  26? 

§  vn.  As  in  nearly  all  other  ornaments  previously  described, 
so  in  this, — we  have  only  to  deepen  the  Italian  cutting,  and 
we  shall  get  the  Northern  type.  If  we  make  the  original  pyra- 
mid somewhat  steeper,  and  instead  of  lightly  incising,  cut  it 
through,  so  as  to  have  the  leaves  held  only  by  their  points  to 
the  base,  we  shall  have  the  English  dogtooth  ;  somewhat  vul- 
gar in  its  piquancy,  when  compared  with  French  mouldings 
of  a  similar  kind.*  It  occurs,  I  think,  on  one  house  in  Venice, 
in  the  Campo  St.  Polo  ;  but  the  ordinary  moulding,  with  light 
incisions,  is  frequent  in  archivolts  and  architraves,  as  well  as 
in  the  roof  cornices. 

§  vni.  This  being  the  simplest  treatment  of  the  pyramid, 
fig.  i.O,  from  the  refectory  of  Wenlock  Abbey,  is  an  example 
of  the  simplest  decoration  of  the  recesses  or  inward  angles 
between  the  pyramids  ;  that  is  to  say,  of  a  simple  hacked  edge 
like  one  of  those  in  fig.  2,  the  cuts  being  taken  up  and  decorated 
instead  of  the  points.  Each  is  worked  into  a  small  trefoiled 
arch,  with  an  incision  round  it  to  mark  its  outline,  and  another 
slight  incision  above  expressing  the  angle  of  the  first  cutting. 
I  said  that  the  teeth  in  fig.  7  had  in  distance  the  effect  of  a 
zigzag :  in  fig.  10  this  zigzag  effect  is  seized  upon  and  de- 
veloped, but  with  the  easiest  and  roughest  work ;  the  angular 
incision  being  a  mere  limiting  line,  like  that  described  in  §  ix. 
of  the  last  chapter.  But  hence  the  farther  steps  to  every  con- 
dition of  Norman  ornament  are  self  evident.  I  do  not  say 
that  all  of  them  arose  from  development  of  the  dogtooth  in 
this  manner,  many  being  quite  independent  inventions  and 
uses  of  zigzag  lines  ;  still,  they  may  all  be  referred  to  this 
simple  type  as  their  root  and  representative,  that  is  to  say,  the 
mere  hack  of  the  Venetian  gunwale,  with  a  limiting  line  fol- 
lowing the  resultant  zigzag. 

§  rx.  Fig.  11  is  a  singular  and  much  more  artificial  condi- 
tion, cast  in  brick,  from  the  church  of  the  Frari,  and  given 
here  only  for  future  reference.  Fig.  12,  resulting  from  a  fillet 
with  the  cuts  on  each  of  its  edges  interrupted  by  a  bar,  is  a 
frequent  Venetian  moulding,  and  of  great  value  ;  but  the  plain 

*  Vide  the  "  Seven  Lamps, '  p.  138. 


868 


THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 


or  leaved  dogteeth  have  been  the  favorites,  and  that  to  such  a 
degree,  that  even  the  Renaissance  architects  took  them  up ; 
and  the  best  bit  of  Renaissance  design  in  Venice,  the  side  of 
the  Ducal  Palace  next  the  Bridge  of  Sighs,  owes  great  part  of 
its  splendor  to  its  foundation,  faced  with  large  flat  dogteeth, 
each  about  a  foot  wide  in  the  base,  with  their  points  truncated, 
and  alternating  with  cavities  which  are  their  own  negatives  or 
casts. 

§  x.  One  other  form  of  the  dogtooth  is  of  great  impor- 
tance in  northern  architecture,  that  produced  by 
oblique  cuts  slightly  curved,  as  in  the  margin, 
Fig.  LVL  It  is  susceptible  of  the  most  fantastic 
and  endless  decoration ;  each  of  the  resulting 
leaves  being,  in  the  early  porches  of  Rouen  and 
Lisieux,  hollowed  out  and  worked  into  branching 
tracery :  and  at  Bourges,  for  distant  effect, 
worked  into  plain  leaves,  or  bold  bony  processes 
with  knobs  at  the  points,  and  near  the  spectator, 
into  crouching  demons  and  broad  winged  owls, 
and  other  fancies  and  intricacies,  innumerable 
and  inexpressible. 

§  XL  Thus  much  is  enough  to  be  noted  respect- 
ing edge  decoration.  We  were  next  to  con- 
sider the  fillet.  Professor  Willis  has  noticed  an  ornament, 
which  he  has  called  the  Venetian  dentil,  "  as  the  most  universal 
ornament  in  its  own  district  that  ever  I  met  with  ;  "  but  has 
not  noticed  the  reason  for  its  frequency.  It  is  nevertheless 
highly  interesting. 

The  whole  early  architecture  of  Venice  is  architecture  ol 
incrustation  :  this  has  not  been  enough  noticed  in  its  peculiai 
relation  to  that  of  the  rest  of  Italy.  There  is,  indeed,  much 
incrusted  architecture  throughout  Italy,  in  elaborate  ecclesi- 
astical work,  but  there  is  more  which  is  frankly  of  brick,  or 
thoroughly  of  stone.  But  the  Venetian  habitually  incrusted 
bis  work  with  macre  ;  he  built  his  houses,  even  the  meanest, 
as  if  he  had  been  a  shell-fish, — roughly  inside,  mother-of- 
pearl  on  the  surface  :  he  was  content,  perforce,  to  gather  the 
day  of  the  Brenta  banks,  and  bake  it  into  brick  for  his  »ub» 


Fig.  LVL 


THE  EDGE  AND  FILLET.  369 

stance  of  wall ;  but  he  overlaid  it  with  the  wealth  of  ocean, 
with  the  most  precious  foreign  marbles.  You  might  fancy 
early  Venice  one  wilderness  of  brick,  which  a  petrifying  sea 
had  beaten  upon  till  it  coated  it  with  marble  :  at  first  a  dark 
city — washed  white  by  the  sea  foam.  And  I  told  you  before 
that  it  was  also  a  city  of  shafts  and  arches,  and  that  its  dwell- 
ings were  raised  upon  continuous  arcades,  among  which  the 
sea  waves  wandered.  Hence  the  thoughts  of  its  builders 
were  early  and  constantly  directed  to  the  incrustation  of 
arches. 

§  xn.  In  Fig.  LVTL  I  have  given  two  of  these  Byzantine 
stilted  arches :  the  one  on 
the  right,  a,  as  they  now  too 
often  appear,  in  its  bare 
brickwork  ;  that  on  the  left, 
with  its  alabaster  covering, 
literally  marble  defensive 
armor,  riveted  together  in 
pieces,  which  follow  the  con- 
tours of  the  building.  Now, 

on  the  wall,  these  pieces  are  mere  flat  slabs  cut  to  the 
arch  outline  ;  but  under  the  soffit  of  the  arch  the  marble  mail 
is  curved,  often  cut  singularly  thin,  like  bent  tiles,  and  fitted 
together  so  that  the  pieces  would  sustain  each  other  even 
without  riveta  It  is  of  course  desirable  that  this  thin  sub- 
arch  of  marble  should  project  enough  to  sustain  the  facing  of 
the  wall ;  and  the  reader  will  see,  in  Fig.  LVIL,  that  its  edge 
forms  a  kind  of  narrow  band  round  the  arch  (6),  a  band  which 
the  least  enrichment  would  render  a  valuable  decorative  feat- 
ure. Now  this  band  is,  of  course,  if  the  soffit-pieces  project 
a  little  beyond  the  face  of  the  wall-pieces,  a  mere  fillet,  like 
the  wooden  gunwale  in  Plate  IX.  ;  and  the  question  is,  how  to 
enrich  it  most  wisely.  It  might  easily  have  been  dog-toothed, 
but  the  Byzantine  architects  had  not  invented  the  dogtooth, 
and  would  not  have  used  it  here,  if  they  had  ;  for  the  dogtooth 
cannot  be  employed  alone,  especially  on  so  principal  an  angle 
as  this  of  the  main  arches,  without  giving  to  the  whole  build- 
ing a  peculiar  look,  which  I  can  no  otherwise  describe  than  as 


270 


THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 


being  to  the  eye,  exactly  what  untempered  acid  is  to  tfoa 
tongue.  The  mere  dogtooth  is  an  acid  moulding,  and  can 
only  be  used  in  certain  mingling  with  others,  to  give  them 
piquancy  ;  never  alone.  What,  then,  will  be  the  next  easiest 
method  of  giving  interest  to  the  fillet  ? 

§  xni.  Simply  to  make  the  incisions  square  instead  of  sharp, 
and  to  leave  equal  intervals  of  the  square  edge  between  them. 
Fig.  LVHL  is  one  of  the  curved  pieces  of  arch  armor,  with  its 
edge  thus  treated ;  one  side  only  being  done 
at  the  bottom,  to  show  the  simplicity  and  ease 
of  the  work.  This  ornament  gives  force  and* 
interest  to  the  edge  of  the  arch,  without  in  the 
least  diminishing  its  quietness.  Nothing  wa» 
ever,  nor  could  be  ever  invented,  fitter  for  its 
purpose,  or  more  easily  cut.  From  the  arch  it 
therefore  found  its  way  into  every  position 
where  the  edge  of  u  piece  of  stone  projected, 
and  became,  from  its  constancy  of  occurrence 
in  the  latest  Gothic  as  well  as  the  earliest  Byzan- 
tine, most  truly  deserving  of  the  name  of  the 
"Venetian  DentiL"  Its  complete  intention  is 
now,  however,  only  to  be  seen  in  the  pictures 
of  Gentile  Bellini  and  Vittor  Carpaccio  ;  for, 
like  most  of  the  rest  of  the  mouldings  of  Vene- 
tian buildings,  it  was  always  either  gilded  or 
painted — often  both,  gold  being  laid  on  the 
faces  of  the  dentils,  and  their  recesses  colored 
alternately  red  and  blue. 

§  xiv.  Observe,  however,  that  the  reason  above 
given  for  the  universality  of  this  ornament  was  by 
no  means  the  reason  of  its  invention.  The  Venetian  dentil  is  a 
particular  application  (consequent  on  the  incrusted  character 
of  Venetian  architecture)  of  the  general  idea  of  dentil,  which 
had  been  originally  given  by  the  Greeks,  and  realised  both  by 
them  and  by  the  Byzantines  in  many  laborious  forms,  long  be- 
fore there  was  need  of  them  for  arch  armor  ;  and  the  lower 
half  of  Plate  IX.  will  give  some  idea  of  the  conditions  whici. 
occur  in  the  Romanesque  of  Venice,  distinctly  derived  from  th& 


Via. 


THE  EDGE  AND  FILLET.  271 

classical  dentil ;  and  of  the  gradual  transition  to  the  more 
convenient  and  simple  type,  the  running-hand  dentil,  which 
afterwards  became  the  characteristic  of  Venetian  Gothic. 
No.  13  *  is  the  common  dentiled  cornice,  which  occurs  re- 
peatedly in  Si  Mark's  ;  and,  as  late  as  the  thirteenth  century, 
a  reduplication  of  it,  forming  the  abaci  of  the  capitals  of  the 
Piazzetta  shafts.  Fig.  15  is  perhaps  an  earlier  type  ;  per- 
haps only  one  of  more  careless  workmanship,  from  a  Byzan- 
tine ruin  in  the  Eio  di  Ca'  Foscari :  and  it  is  interesting  to 
compare  it  with  fig.  14  from  the  Cathedral  of  Vienne,  in 
South  France.  Fig.  17,  from  St.  Mark's,  and  18,  from  the 
apse  of  Murano,  are  two  very  early  examples  in  which  the 
future  true  Venetian  dentil  is  already  developed  in  method 
of  execution,  though  the  object  is  still  only  to  imitate  the 
classical  one  ;  and  a  rude  imitation  of  the  bead  is  joined  with 
it  in  fig.  17.  No.  16  indicates  two  examples  of  experimental 
forms  :  the  uppermost  from  the  tomb  of  Mastino  della  Scala, 
at  Verona  ;  the  lower  from  a  door  in  Venice,  I  believe,  of  the 
thirteenth  century :  19  is  a  more  frequent  arrangement, 
chiefly  found  in  cast  brick,  and  connecting  the  dentils  with 
the  dogteeth :  20  is  a  form  introduced  richly  in  the  later 
Gothic,  but  of  rare  occurrence  until  the  latter  half  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  I  shall  call  it  the  gabled  dentil  It  is 
found  in  the  greatest  profusion  in  sepulchral  Gothic,  associ- 
ated with  several  slight  variations  from  the  usual  dentil  type, 
of  which  No.  21,  from  the  tomb  of  Pietro  Cornaro,  may  serve 
as  an  example. 

§  xv.  All  the  forms  given  in  Plate  IX.  are  of  not  unfrequent 
occurrence  :  varying  much  in  size  and  depth,  according  to  the 
expression  of  the  work  in  which  they  occur  ;  generally  in- 
creasing in  size  in  late  work  (the  earliest  dentils  are  seldom 
more  than  an  inch  or  an  inch  and  a  half  long :  the  fully  de- 
veloped dentil  of  the  later  Gothic  is  often  as  ranch  as  four  or 
five  in  length,  by  one  and  a  half  in  breadth) ;  but  they  are  all 
•omewhat  rare,  compared  to  the  true  or  armor  dentil,  above 

*  The  sections  of  all  the  mouldings  are  given  on  the  right  of  each ; 
the  part  which  is  constantly  solid  being  shaded,  and  that  which  is  col 
into  daatil*  kit. 


THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

described.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are  one  or  two  unique 
conditions,  which  will  be  noted  in  the  buildings  where  they 
occur.*  The  Ducal  Palace  furnishes  three  anomalies  in  the 
arch,  dogtooth,  and  dentil :  it  has  a  hyperbolic  arch,  as  noted 
above,  Chap.  X.,  §  xv. ;  it  has  a  double-fanged  dogtooth  in  the 
rings  of  the  spiral  shafts  on  its  angles  ;  and,  finally,  it  has  a 
dentil  with  concave  sides,  of  which  the  section  and  two  of  the 
blocks,  real  size,  are  given  in  Plate  XIV.  The  labor  of  ob- 
taining this  difficult  profile  has,  however,  been  thrown  away  ; 
for  the  effect  of  the  dentil  at  ten  feet  distance  is  exactly  the 
same  as  that  of  the  usual  form  :  and  the  reader  may  consider 
the  dogtooth  and  dentil  in  that  plate  as  fairly  representing 
the  common  use  of  them  in  the  Venetian  Gothic. 

§  XVL  I  am  aware  of  no  other  form  of  fillet  decoration  re- 
quiring notice  :  in  the  Northern  Gothic,  the  fillet  is  employed 
chiefly  to  give  severity  or  flatness  to  mouldings  supposed  to 
be  too  much  rounded,  and  is  therefore  generally  plain.  It  is 
itself  an  ugly  moulding,  and,  when  thus  employed,  is  merely 
a  foil  for  others,  of  which,  however,  it  at  last  usurped  the 
place,  and  became  one  of  the  most  painful  features  in  the  de- 
based Gothic  both  of  Italy  and  the  North. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE    BOLL    AND    BECE8S. 

§  L  I  HAVE  classed  these  two  means  of  architectural  effect 
together,  because  the  one  is  in  most  cases  the  negative  of  the 
other,  and  is  used  to  relieve  it  exactly  as  shadow  relieves  light ; 
recess  alternating  with  roll,  not  only  in  lateral,  but  in  succes- 
sive order  ;  not  merely  side  by  side  with  each  other,  but  inter- 
rupted the  one  by  the  other  in  their  own  lines.  A  recess  itself 

*  As,  however,  we  shall  not  probably  be  led  either  to  Bergamo  or 
Bologna,  I  may  mention  here  a  curiously  rich  use  of  the  dentil,  entirely 
covering  the  foliation  and  tracery  of  a  niche  on  the  outside  of  th« 
duomo  of  Bergamo ;  and  a  roll,  entirely  incrusted,  as  the  handle  of  • 
mace  often  is  with  nails,  with  massy  dogteeth  or  nail-heade,  on  tbf 
door  of  the  Pepoli  palace  of  Bologna. 


TBE  ROLL  AND  RECESS.  273 

has  properly  no  decoration  ;  but  its  depth  gives  value  to  the 
decoration  which  flanks,  encloses,  or  interrupts  it,  and  the 
form  which  interrupts  it  best  is  the  roll 

§  n.  I  use  the  word  roll  generally  for  any  mouldings  which 
present  to  the  eye  somewhat  the  appearance  of  being  cylindri- 
cal, and  look  like  round  roda  When  upright,  they  are  in  ap- 
pearance, if  not  in  fact,  small  shafts  ;  and  are  a  kind  of  bent 
shaft,  even  when  used  in  archivolts  and  traceries ; — when  hori- 
zontal, they  confuse  themselves  with  cornices,  and  are,  in  fact, 
generally  to  be  considered  as  the  best  means  of  drawing  an 
architectural  line  in  any  direction,  the  soft  curve  of  their  side 
obtaining  some  shadow  at  nearly  all  times  of  the  day,  and  that 
more  tender  and  grateful  to  the  eye  than  can  be  obtained 
either  by  an  incision  or  by  any  other  form  of  projection. 

§  in.  Their  decorative  power  is,  however,  too  slight  for  rich 
work,  and  they  frequently  require,  like  the  angle  and  the  fillet, 
to  be  rendered  interesting  by  subdivision  or  minor  ornament 
«f  their  own.  When  the  roll  is  small,  this  is  effected,  exactly 
as  in  the  case  of  the  fillet,  by  cutting  pieces  out  of  it ;  giving 
in  the  simplest  results  what  is  called  the  Norman  billet  mould- 
ing :  and  when  the  cuts  are  given  in  couples,  and  the  pieces 
rounded  into  spheres  and  almonds,  we  have  the  ordinary 
Greek  bead,  both  of  them  too  well  known  to  require  illustra- 
tion. The  Norman  billet  we  shall  not  meet  with  in  Venice ; 
the  bead  constantly  occurs  in  Byzantine,  and  of  course  in 
Renaissance  work.  In  Plate  IX.,  Fig.  17,  there  is  a  remarka- 
ble example  of  its  early  treatment,  where  the  cuts  in  it  are  left 
sharp. 

§  iv.  But  the  roll,  if  it  be  of  any  size,  deserves  better  treat- 
ment Its  rounded  surface  is  too  beautiful  to  be  cut  away  in 
notches  ;  and  it  is  rather  to  be  covered  with  flat  chasing  or  in- 
laid patterns.  Thus  ornamented,  it  gradually  blends  itself 
with  the  true  shaft,  both  in  the  Romanesque  work  of  the 
North,  and  in  the  Italian  connected  schools ;  and  the  patterns 
used  for  it  are  those  used  for  shaft  decoration  in  general. 

§  v.  But,  as  alternating  with  the  recess,  it  has  a  decoration 
peculiar  to  itself.     We  have  often,  in  the  preceding  chapters, 
noteJ  the  fondness  of  the  Northern  builders  for  deep  shad* 
VOL.  I.— 18 


374  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

and  hollowness  in  their  mouldings  ;  and  in  the  second  chaptet 
of  the  "  Seven  Lamps,"  the  changes  are  described  which  re- 
duced the  massive  roll  mouldings  of  the  early  Gothic  to  a 
series  of  recesses,  separated  by  bars  of  light.  The  shape  of 
these  recesses  is  at  present  a  matter  of  no  importance  to  us  : 
it  was,  indeed,  endlessly  varied  ;  but  needlessly,  for  the  value 
of  a  recess  is  in  its  darkness,  and  its  darkness  disguises  its 
form.  But  it  was  not  in  mere  wanton  indulgence  of  their  love 
of  shade  that  the  Flamboyant  builders  deepened  the  furrows 
of  their  mouldings  :  they  had  found  a  means  of  decorating 
those  furrows  as  rich  as  it  was  expressive,  and  the  entire 
framework  of  their  architecture  was  designed  with  a  view  to 
the  effect  of  this  decoration  ;  where  the  ornament  ceases,  the 
framework  is  meagre  and  mean  :  but  the  ornament  is,  in  the 
best  examples  of  the  style,  unceasing. 

§  vt.  It  is,  in  fact,  an  ornament  formed  by  the  ghosts  or 
anatomies  of  the  old  shafts,  left  in  the  furrows  which  had 
taken  their  place.  Every  here  and  there,  a  fragment  of  a  ro*i 
or  shaft  is  left  in  the  recess  or  furrow  :  a  billet-moulding  on  a 
huge  scale,  but  a  billet-moulding  reduced  to  a  skeleton  ;  for 
the  fragments  of  roll  are  cut  hollow,  and  worked  into  mere 
entanglement  of  stony  fibres,  with  the  gloom  of  the  recess 
shown  through  them.  These  ghost  rolls,  forming  sometimes 
pedestals,  sometimes  canopies,  sometimes  covering  the  whole 
recess  with  an  arch  of  tracery,  beneath  which  it  runs  like  a 
tunnel,  are  the  peculiar  decorations  of  the  Flamboyant  Gothic. 

§  vn.  Now  observe,  in  all  kinds  of  decoration,  we  must 
keep  carefully  under  separate  heads,  the  consideration  of  the 
changes  wrought  in  the  mere  physical  form,  and  in  the  intel- 
lectual purpose  of  ornament  The  relations  of  the  canopy  to 
i,fce  statue  it  shelters,  are  to  be  considered  altogether  distinctly 
from  those  of  the  canopy  to  the  building  which  it  decorates 
In  its  earliest  conditions  the  canopy  is  partly  confused  with 
representations  of  miniature  architecture  :  it  is  sometimes  a 
small  temple  or  gateway,  sometimes  a  honorary  addition  to 
the  pomp  of  a  saint,  a  covering  to  his  throne,  or  to  his  shrine ; 
and  this  canopy  is  often  expressed  in  bas-relief  (as  in  painting), 
Without  mucii  reference  to  the  great  requirements  of  the  build* 


TBS  ROLL  AJH)  ttBOBSA 

Ing.  At  other  times  it  is  a  real  protection  to  the  statue,  and  if 
enlarged  into  a  complete  pinnacle,  carried  on  proper  shafta, 
and  boldly  roofed.  But  in  the  late  northern  system  the  cano- 
pies are  neither  expressive  nor  protective.  They  are  a  kind 
of  stone  lace-work,  required  for  the  ornamentation  of  the  build- 
ing, for  which  the  statues  are  often  little  more  than  an  excuse, 
and  of  which  the  physical  character  is,  as  above  described,  that 
of  ghosts  of  departed  shafts. 

§  vin.  There  is,  of  course,  much  rich  tabernacle  work  which 
will  not  come  literally  under  this  head,  much  which  is  strag- 
gling or  flat  in  its  plan,  connecting  itself  gradually  with  th« 
ordinary  forms  of  independent  shrines  and  tombs  ;  but  the 
general  idea  of  all  tabernacle  work  is  marked  in  the  common 
phrase  of  a  "  niche,"  that  is  to  say  a  hollo.w  intended  for  a 
statue,  and  crowned  by  a  canopy  ;  and  this  niche  decoration 
only  reaches  its  full  development  when  the  Flamboyant  hol- 
lows are  cut  deepest,  and  when  the  manner  and  spirit  of  sculpt- 
ure had  so  much  lost  their  purity  and  intensity  that  it  became 
desirable  to  draw  the  eye  away  from  the  statue  to  its  cover- 
ing, so"  that  at  last  the  canopy  became  the  more  important  of 
the  two,  and  is  itself  so  beautiful  that  we  are  often  contented 
with  architecture  from  which  profanity  has  struck  the  statues, 
if  only  the  canopies  are  left ;  and  consequently,  in  our  modern 
ingenuity,  even  set  up  canopies  where  we  have  no  intention 
of  setting  statues. 

§  ix.  It  is  a  pity  that  thus  we  have  no  really  noble  example 
of  the  effect  of  the  statue  in  the  recesses  of  architecture  :  for 
the  Flamboyant  recess  was  not  so  much  a  preparation  for  it 
as  a  gulf  which  swallowed  it  up.  When  statues  were  most 
earnestly  designed,  they  were  thrust  forward  in  all  kinds  of  • 
places,  often  in  front  of  the  pillars,  as  at  Amiens,  awkwardly 
enough,  but  with  manly  respect  to  the  purpose  of  the  figures. 
The  Flamboyant  hollows  yawned  at  their  sides,  the  statues 
fell  back  into  them,  and  nearly  disappeared,  and  a  flash  of 
flame  in  the  shape  of  a  canopy  rose  as  they  expired. 

§  x.  I  do  not  feel  myself  capable  at  present  of  speaking 
with  perfect  justice  of  this  niche  ornament  of  the  north,  my 
late  studies  in  Italy  having  somewhat  destroyed  uiy  syrup* 


THE  STONES  OP  VENICE. 

thies  with  it.  But  I  once  loved  it  intensely,  and  will  not  aay 
anything  to  depreciate  it  now,  save  only  this,  that  while  I 
have  studied  long  at  Abbeville,  without  in  the  least  finding 
that  it  made  me  care  less  for  Verona,  I  never  remained  long 
in  Verona  without  feeling  some  doubt  of  the  nobility  of  Abbe- 
ville. 

§  XL  Eecess  decoration  by  leaf  mouldings  is  constantly 
and  beautifully  associated  in  the  north  with  niche  decoration, 
but  requires  no  special  notice,  the  recess  in  such  cases  being 
used  merely  to  give  value  to  the  leafage  by  its  gloom,  and  the 
difference  between  such  conditions  and  those  of  the  south 
being  merely  that  in  the  one  the  leaves  are  laid  across  a  hol- 
low, and  in  the  other  over  a  solid  surface  ;  but  in  neither  of 
the  schools  exclusively  so,  each  in  some  degree  intermingling 
the  method  of  the  other. 

§  xu.  Finally  the  recess  decoration  by  the  ball  flower  is 
very  definite  and  characteristic,  found,  I  believe,  chiefly  in 
English  work.  It  consists  merely  in  leaving  a  small  boss 
or  sphere,  fixed,  as  it  were,  at  intervals  in  the  hollows  ;  such 
bosses  being  afterwards  carved  into  roses,  or  other  ornamental 
forms,  and  sometimes  lifted  quite  up  out  of  the  hollow,  on 
projecting  processes,  like  vertebrae,  so  as  to  make  them  more 
conspicuous,  as  throughout  the  decoration  of  the  cathedral  of 
Bourgea 

The  value  of  this  ornament  is  chiefly  in  the  spotted  char- 
acter which  it  gives  to  the  lines  of  mouldings  seen  from  a  dis- 
tance. It  is  very  rich  and  delightful  when  not  used  in  excess ; 
but  it  would  satiate  and  weary  the  eye  if  it  were  ever  used  in 
general  architecture.  The  spire  of  Salisbury,  and  of  St 
•  Mary's  at  Oxford,  are  agreeable  as  isolated  masses  ;  but  if  an 
entire  street  were  built  with  this  spotty  decoration  at  every 
casement,  we  could  not  traverse  it  to  the  end  without  disgust. 
It  is  only  another  example  of  the  constant  aim  at  piquancy  of 
effect  which  characterised  the  northern  builders  ;  an  ingenious 
but  somewhat  vulgar  effort  to  give  interest  to  their  grey 
masses  of  coarse  stone,  without  overtaking  their  powers  either 
of  invention  or  execution.  We  will  thank  them  for  it  without 
blame  or  praise,  and  pass  on. 


THE  BA8S.  277 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  BASE. 

§  i.  WE  know  now  as  much  as  is  needful  respecting  the 
methods  of  minor  and  universal  decorations,  which  were  dis- 
tinguished in  Chapter  XXII.,  §  in.,  from  the  ornament  which 
has  special  relation  to  particular  parts.  This  local  ornament, 
which,  it  will  be  remembered,  we  arranged  in  §  n.  of  the  same 
chapter  under  five  heads,  we  have  next,  under  those  heads,  to 
consider.  And,  first,  the  ornament  of  the  bases,  both  of  walls 
and  shafts. 

It  was  noticed  in  our  account  of  the  divisions  of  a  wall,  that 
there  are  something  in  those  divisions  like  the  beginning,  the 
several  courses,  and  the  close  of  a  human  life.  And  as,  in  all 
well-conducted  lives,  the  hard  work,  and  roughing,  and  gain- 
ing of  strength  come  first,  the  honor  or  decoration  in  certain 
intervals  during  their  course,  but  most  of  all  in  their  close,  so, 
in  general,  the  base  of  the  wall,  which  is  its  beginning  of  labor, 
will  bear  least  decoration,  its  body  more,  especially  those 
epochs  of  rest  called  its  string  courses  ;  but  its  crown  or  cor- 
nice most  of  all.  Still,  in  some  buildings,  all  these  are  dec- 
orated richly,  though  the  last  most ;  and  in  others,  when  the 
base  is  well  protected  and  yet  conspicuous,  it  may  probably 
receive  even  more  decoration  than  other  parts. 

§  n.  Now,  the  main  things  to  be  expressed  in  a  base  are  its 
levelness  and  evenness.  We  cannot  do  better  than  construct 
the  several  members  of  the  base,  as  developed  in  Fig.  n.,  p. 
66,  each  of  a  different  colored  marble,  so  as  to  produce 
marked  level  bars  of  color  all  along  the  foundation.  This  is 
exquisitely  done  in  all  the  Italian  elaborate  wall  bases ;  that 
of  St.  Anastasia  at  Verona  is  one  of  the  most  perfect  existing, 
for  play  of  color  ;  that  of  Giotto's  campanile  is  on  the  whole 
the  most  beautifully  finished.  Then,  on  the  vertical  portions, 
a,  6,  c,  we  may  put  what  patterns  in  mosaic  we  please,  so  that 
they  be  not  too  rich  ;  but  if  we  choose  rather  to  have  sculpture 
(or  must  have  it  for  want  of  stones  to  inlay),  then  observe  that 
all  sculpture  on  bases  must  be  in  panels,  or  it  will  soon  be 


278  THE  8TONB8  OP 

worn  away,  and  that  a  plain  panelling  is  of  ??n  good  without 
any  other  ornament.  The  member  6,  which  in  St.  Mark's  is 
subordinate,  and  c,  which  is  expanded  into  a  seat,  are  both  of 
them  decorated  with  simple  but  exquisitely-finished  panelling, 
in  red  and  white  or  green  and  white  marble  ;  and  the  mem- 
ber e  is  in  bases  of  this  kind  very  valuable,  as  an  expression 
of  a  firm  beginning  of  the  substance  of  the  wall  itself.  Thia 
member  has  been  of  no  service  to  us  hitherto,  and  was  unno- 
ticed in  the  chapters  on  construction  ;  but  it  was  expressed 
in  the  figure  of  the  wall  base,  on  account  of  its  great  value 
when  the  foundation  is  of  stone  and  the  wall  of  brick  (coated 
or  not).  In  such  cases  it  is  always  better  to  add  the  course  e, 
above  the  slope  of  the  base,  than  abruptly  to  begin  the  com- 
mon masonry  of  the  wall. 

§  in.  It  is,  however,  with  the  member  d,  or  Xb,  that  we  are 
most  seriously  concerned  ;  for  this  being  the  essential  feature 
of  all  bases,  and  the  true  preparation  for  the  wall  or  shaft, 
it  is  most  necessary  that  here,  if  anywhere,  we  should  have 
full  expression  of  levelness  and  precision ;  and  farther,  that, 
if  possible,  the  eye  should  not  be  suffered  to  rest  on  the 
points  of  junction  of  the  stones,  which  would  give  an  effect  ol 
instability.  Both  these  objects  are  accomplished  by  attracting 
the  eye  to  two  rolls,  separated  by  a  deep  hollow,  in  the  mem- 
ber d  itself.  The  bold  projections  of  their  mouldings  entirely 
prevent  the  attention  from  being  drawn  to  the  joints  of  the 
masonry,  and  besides  form  a  simple  but  beautifully  connected 
group  of  bars  of  shadow,  which  express,  in  their  perfect  paral- 
lelism, the  absolute  levelness  of  the  foundation. 

§  rv.  I  need  hardly  give  any  perspective  drawing  of  an  ar- 
rangement which  must  be  perfectly  familiar  to  the  reader,  as 
occurring  under  nearly  every  column  of  the  too  numerous 
classical  buildings  all  over  Europe.  But  I  may  name  the  base 
of  the  Bank  of  England  as  furnishing  a  very  simple  instance 
of  the  group,  with  a  square  instead  of  a  rounded  hollow,  both 
forming  the  base  of  the  wall,  and  gathering  into  that  of  the 
shafts  as  tbe-y  occur ;  while  the  bases  of  the  pillars  of  the 
facade  of  the  British  Museum  are  as  good  examples  as  the 
reader  can  study  on  <•  ^arger  wcale- 


THE  BABE. 


279 


§  v.  I  believe  this  group  of  mouldings  was  first  invented 
by  the  Greeks,  and  it  has  never  been  materially  improved,  as 
far  as  its  peculiar  purpose  is  concerned  ;  *  the  classical  at- 
tempts at  its  variation  being  the  ugliest :  one,  the  using  a 
single  roll  of  larger  size,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  Duke  of  York's 
column,  which  therefore  looks  as  if  it  stood  on  a  large  saus- 
age (the  Monument  has  the  same  base,  but  more  concealed 
by  pedestal  decoration) :  another,  the  using  two  rolls  without 
the  intermediate  cavetto, — a  condition  hardly  less  awkward, 
and  which  may  be  studied  to  advantage  in  the  wall  and  shaft- 
bases  of  the  Athenaeum  Club-house :  and  another,  the  intro- 
duction of  what  are  called  fillets  between  the  rolls,  as  may  be 
seen  in  the  pillars  of  Hanover  Chapel,  Regent  Street,  which 
look,  in  consequence,  as  if  they  were  standing  upon  a  pile  of 
pewter  collection  plates.  But  the  only  successful  changes 
have  been  mediaeval ;  and  their  nature  will  be  at  once  under- 
stood by  a  glance  at  the  varieties  given  on  the  opposite  page. 
It  will  be  well  first  to  give  the  buildings  in  which  they  occur, 
in  order. 


1.  Santa  Fosca,  Torcello. 

2.  North     transept,    St    Mark's, 

Venice. 
8.  Nave,  Torcello. 

4.  Nave,  Torcello. 

5.  South  transept,  St.  Mark's. 

6.  Northern  portico,  upper  shafts, 

St.  Mark's. 

7.  Another  of  the  same  group. 

8.  Cortile  of  St.  Ambrogio,  Milan. 

9.  Nave  shafts,  St.  Michele,  Pavia. 

10.  Outside  wall  base,  St.  Mark's, 

Venice. 

11.  Fondaco  de'  Turchi,  Venice. 

12.  Nave,  Vienne,  France. 

18.  Fondaco  de'  Turchi,  Venice. 


14.  Ca'  Giustiniani,  Venice. 

15.  Byzantine  fragment,  Venice, 

16.  St.  Mark's,  upper  Colonnade. 

17.  Ducal     Palace,    Venice    (win- 

do  ws). 

18.  Ca'  Falier,  Venice. 

19.  St  Zeno,  Verona. 

20.  San  Stefano,  Venice. 

21.  Ducal  Palace,  Venice(wind<Wfc\ 

22.  Nave,  Salisbury. 

23.  Santa  Fosca,  Torcello. 

24.  Nave,  Lyons  Cathedral. 

25.  Notre  Dame,  Dijon. 

26.  Nave,  Bourges  Cathedral. 

27.  Nave,  Mortain  (Normandy). 

28.  Nave,  Rouen  Cathedral. 


*  Another  most  important  reason  for  the  peculiar  sufficiency  and 
value  of  this  base,  especially  as  opposed  to  the  bulging  forms  of  the  sin- 
gle or  double  roll,  without  the  cavetto,  has  been  suggested  by  the  writer 


880  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

§  vi.  Eighteen  out  of  the  twenty-eight  varieties  are  Vene 
tian,  being  bases  to  which  I  shall  have  need  of  future  refer* 
ence  ;  but  the  interspersed  examples,  8,  9,  12,  and  19,  from 
Milan,  Pavia,  Vienne  (France),  and  Verona,  show  the  exactly 
correspondent  conditions  of  the  Romanesque  base  at  the 
period,  throughout  the  centre  of  Europe.  The  last  five  ex- 
amples show  the  changes  effected  by  the  French  Gothic  archi- 
tects :  the  Salisbury  base  (22)  I  have  only  introduced  to  show 
its  dulness  and  vulgarity  beside  them  ;  and  23,  from  Torcello, 
for  a  special  reason,  in  that  place. 

§  vn.  The  reader  will  observe  that  the  two  bases,  8  and  9, 
from  the  two  most  important  Lombardic  churches  of  Italy, 
St.  Ambrogio  of  Milan  and  St.  Michele  of  Pavia,  mark  the 
character  of  the  barbaric  base  founded  on  pure  Roman 
models,  sometimes  approximating  to  such  models  very  closely  ; 
and  the  varieties  10,  11,  13,  16  are  Byzantine  types,  also 
founded  on  Roman  models.  But  in  the  bases  1  to  7  inclus- 
ive, and,  still  more  characteristically,  in  23  below,  there  is 
evidently  an  original  element,  a  tendency  to  use  the  fillet  and 
hollow  instead  of  the  roll,  which  is  eminently  Gothic  ;  which 
in  the  base  3  reminds  one  even  of  Flamboyant  conditions, 
and  is  excessively  remarkable  as  occurring  in  Italian  work  cer- 
tainly not  later  than  the  tenth  century,  taking  even  the  date 
of  the  last  rebuilding  of  the  Duomo  of  Torcello,  though  I  am 
strongly  inclined  to  consider  these  bases  portions  of  the  orig- 
inal church.  And  I  have  therefore  put  the  base  23  among 
the  Gothic  group  to  which  it  has  so  strong  relationship, 
though,  on  the  last  supposition,  five  centuries  older  than  the 
earliest  of  the  five  terminal  examples  ;  and  it  is  still  more  re- 
markable because  it  reverses  the  usual  treatment  of  the  lower 
roll,  which  is  in  general  a  tolerably  accurate  test  of  the  age  of 
a  base,  in  the  degree  of  its  projection.  Thus,  in  the  ex- 
amples 2,  3,  4,  5,  9,  10,  12,  the  lower  roll  is  hardly  rounded 
at  all,  and  diametrically  opposed  to  the  late  Gothic  conditions, 
24  to  28,  in  which  it  advances  gradually,  like  a  wave  preparing 

of  the  Essay  on  the  ^Esthetics  of  Gothic  Architecture  in  the  Britiih 
Quarterly  for  August,  1849  : — "  The  Attic  base  recedes  at  the  point 
where,  if  it  Buffered  from  superincumbent  weight,  it  would  bulge  out." 


1  t  •  4  I 


PLATE  X. — PROFILES  oj?  BASES. 
Stones  of  Venice — Voi.  I. — 13 


THE  BASE.  281 

to  break,  and  at  last  is  actually  seen  curling  over  with  the  long- 
backed  rush  of  surf  upon  the  shore.  Yet  the  Torcello  base 
resembles  these  Gothic  ones  both  in  expansion  beneath  and 
in  depth  of  cavetto  above. 

§  vm.  There  can  be  no  question  of  the  ineffable  superiority 
of  these  Gothic  bases,  in  grace  of  profile,  to  any  ever  invented 
by  the  ancients.  But  they  have  all  two  great  faults  :  They 
seem,  in  the  first  place,  to  have  been  designed  without  suffi- 
cient reference  to  the  necessity  of  their  being  usually  seen 
from  above  ;  their  grace  of  profile  cannot  be  estimated  when 
BO  seen,  and  their  excessive  expansion  gives  them  an  appear- 
ance of  flatness  and  separation  from  the  shaft,  as  if  they  had 
splashed  out  under  its  pressure :  in  the  second  place  their 
cavetto  is  so  deeply  cut  that  it  has  the  appearance  of  a  black 
fissure  between  the  members  of  the  base ;  and  in  the  Lyons 
and  Bourges  shafts,  24  and  26,  it  is  impossible  to  conquer  the 
idea  suggested  by  it,  that  the  two  stones  above  and  below  have 
been  intended  to  join  close,  but  that  some  pebbles  have  got  in 
and  kept  them  from  fitting  ;  one  is  always  expecting  the 
pebbles  to  be  crushed,  and  the  shaft  to  settle  into  its  place 
with  a  thunder-clap. 

§  ix.  For  these  reasons,  I  said  that  the  profile  of  the  pure 
classic  base  had  hardly  been  materially  improved ;  but  the 
various  conditions  of  it  are  beautiful  or  commonplace,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  variety  of  proportion  among  their  lines  and  the 
delicacy  of  their  curvatures  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  expression  of 
characters  like  those  of  the  abstract  lines  in  Plate  VII. 

The  five  best  profiles  in  Plate  X.  are  10,  17,  19,  20,  21  ;  10 
is  peculiarly  beautiful  in  the  opposition  between  the  bold  pro- 
jection of  its  upper  roll,  and  the  delicate  leafy  curvature  of  its 
lower  ;  and  this  and  21  may  be  taken  as  nearly  perfect  types, 
the  one  of  the  steep,  the  other  of  the  expansive  basic  profiles. 
The  characters  of  all,  however,  are  so  dependent  upon  their 
place  and  expression,  that  it  is  unfair  to  judge  them  thus  sepa- 
rately ;  and  the  precision  of  curvature  is  a  matter  of  so  small 
consequence  in  general  effect,  that  we  need  not  here  pursue 
the  subject  farther. 

§  x.  We  have  thus  far,  however,  considered  only  the  lin«s 


282 


THE  STONES  OP   VENICE. 


of  moulding  in  the  member  X  b,  whether  of  wall  or  shaft  basa 
But  the  reader  will  remember  that  in  our  best  shaft  base,  in 
Fig.  XTT.  (p.  87),  certain  props  or  spurs  were  applied  to  the 
slope  of  X  b  ;  but  now 


PlO.  LIX. 


that  X  b  is  divided  into 
these  delicate  mouldings, 
we  cannot  conveniently 
apply  the  spur  to  its  ir- 
regular profile  ;  we  must 
be  content  to  set  it  against 
the  lower  roll.  Let  the 
upper  edge  of  this  lower 
roll  be  the  curved  line 
here,  o,  d,  e,  b,  Fig.  LDL, 
and  c  the  angle  of  the 
square  plinth  projecting 
beneath  it.  Then  the  spur, 
applied  as  we  saw  in  Chap. 
VII.,  will  be  of  some  such  form  as  the  triangle  c  e  d,  Fig. 
LIX. 

§  xi.  Now  it  has  just  been  stated  that  it  is  of  small  impor- 
tance whether  the  abstract  lines  of  the  profile  of  a  base  mould- 
ing be  fine  or  not,  because  we  rarely  stoop  down  to  look  at 
them.  But  this  triangular  spur  is  nearly  always  seen  from 
above,  and  the  eye  is  drawn  to  it  as  one  of  the  most  important 
features  of  the  whole  base  ;  therefore  it  is  a  point  of  immediate 
necessity  to  substitute  for  its-  harsh  right  lines  (c  d,  c  e)  some 
curve  of  noble  abstract  character. 

§  xn.  I  mentioned,  in  speaking  of  the  line  of  the  salvia  leaf 
at  p.  224,  that  I  had  marked  off  the  portion  of  it,  x  y,  because 
I  thought  it  likely  to  be  generally  useful  to  us  afterwards  ;  and 
I  promised  the  reader  that  as  he  had  built,  so  he  should  deco- 
rate his  edifice  at  his  own  free  will.  If,  therefore,  he  likes  the 
above  triangular  spur,  c  d  e,  by  all  means  let  him  keep  it ;  but 
if  he  be  on  the  whole  dissatisfied  with  it,  I  may  be  permitted, 
perhaps,  to  advise  him  to  set  to  work  like  a  tapestry  bee,  to  cut 
off  the  little  bit  of  line  of  salvia  leaf  x  y,  and  try  how  he  can 
bwt  substitute  it  for  the  awkward  lines  c  d  a  e.  He  aaay  try 


PLATE  XI. — PLANS  OF  BASES. 


THE  BASE. 


283 


it  any  way  that  he  likes ;  but  if  he  puts  the  salvia  curvature 
inside  the  present  lines,  he  will  find  the  spur  looks  weak,  and  I 
think  he  will  determine  at  last  on  placing  it  as  I  have  done  at 
c  d,  c  e,  Fig.  LX.  (If  the  reader  will  be  at  the  pains  to  trans- 
fer the  salvia  leaf  line  with  tracing  paper,  he  will  find  it  accu- 
rately used  in  this  figure. )  Then  I  merely  add  an  outer  circular 
line  to  represent  the  outer  swell  of  the  roll  against  which  the 
spur  is  set,  and  I  put  another  such  spur  to  the  opposite  corner 
of  the  square,  and  we  have  the  half  base,  Fig.  LX.,  which  is  a 
general  type  of  the  best  Gothic  bases  in  existence,  being  very 
nearly  that  of  the  upper  shafts  of  the  Ducal  Palace  of  Venice. 


Fio.  LX. 


In  those  shafts  the  quadrant  a  b,  or  the  upper  edge  of  the  lower 
roll,  is  2  feet  If  inches  round,  and  the  base  of  the  spur  d  e,  is 
10  inches  ;  the  line  d  e  being  therefore  to  a  b  as  10  to  26f .  In 
Fig.  LX.  it  is  as  10  to  24,  the  measurement  being  easier  and 
the  type  somewhat  more  generally  representative  of  the  best, 
i.  e.  broadest,  spurs  of  Italian  Gothic. 

§  xiu.  Now,  the  reader  is  to  remember,  there  is  nothing 
magical  in  salvia  leaves  :  the  line  I  take  from  them  happened 
merely  to  fall  conveniently  on  the  page,  and  might  as  well 
have  been  taken  from  anything  else  ;  it  is  simply  its  character 
of  gradated  curvature  which  fits  it  for  our  use.  On  Plate  XL, 
opposite.  I  have  given  plans  oi  the  spurs  and  quadrants  01 


284  TEE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

twelve  Italian  and  three  Northern  bases ;  these  latter  (13), 
from  Bourges,  (14)  from  Lyons,  (15)  from  Rouen,  are  given 
merely  to  show  the  Northern  disposition  to  break  up  bound- 
ing lines,  and  lose  breadth  in  picturesqueness.  These  North- 
ern bases  look  the  prettiest  in  this  plate,  because  this  varia- 
tion of  the  outline  is  nearly  all  the  ornament  they  have, 
being  cut  very  rudely  ;  but  the  Italian  bases  above  them  are 
merely  prepared  by  their  simple  outlines  for  far  richer  decora- 
tion at  the  next  step,  as  we  shall  see  presently.  The  Northern 
bases  are  to  be  noted  also  for  another  grand  error  :  the  pro- 
jection of  the  roll  beyond  the  square  plinth,  of  which  the  cor- 
ner is  seen,  in  various  degrees  of  advancement,  in  the  three 
examples.  13  is  the  base  whose  profile  is  No.  26  in  Plate  X.; 
14  is  24  in  the  same  plate  ;  and  15  is  28. 

§  xiv.  The  Italian  bases  are  the  following  ;  all,  except  7  and 
10,  being  Venetian  :  1  and  2,  upper  colonnade,  St.  Mark's  ;  3, 
Ca'  Falier  ;  4,  lower  colonnade,  and  5,  transept,  St.  Mark's  ; 
6,  from  the  Church  of  St.  John  and  Paul  ;  7,  from  the  tomb 
near  St.  Anastasia,  Verona,  described  above  (p.  147)  ;  8  and 
9,  Fon  daco  de'  Turchi,  Venice  ;  10,  tomb  of  Can  Mastino 
della  Scala,  Verona ;  11,  San  Stefano,  Venice ;  12,  Ducal 
Palace,  Venice,  upper  colonnade.  The  Nos.  3,  8,  9, 11  are  the 
bases  whose  profiles  are  respectively  Nos.  18,  11,  13,  and  20 
in  Plate  X.  The  flat  surfaces  of  the  basic  plinths  are  here 
shaded  ;  and  in  the  lower  corner  of  the  square  occupied  by 
each  quadrant  is  put,  also  shaded,  the  central  profile  of  each 
spur,  from  its  root  at  the  roll  of  the  base  to  its  point ;  those 
of  Nos.  1  and  2  being  conjectural,  for  their  spurs  were  so  rude 
and  ugly,  that  I  took  no  note  of  their  profiles  ;  but  they  would 
probably  be  as  here  given.  As  these  bases,  though  here,  for 
the  sake  of  comparison,  reduced  within  squares  of  equal  size, 
in  reality  belong  to  shafts  of  very  different  size,  9  being  some 
six  or  seven  inches  in  diameter,  and  6,  three  or  four  feet,  the 
proportionate  size  of  the  roll  varies  accordingly,  being  largest, 
as  in  9,  where  the  base  is  smallest,  and  in  6  and  12  the  leaf 
profile  is  given  on  a  larger  scale  than  the  plan,  or  its  character 
could  not  have  been  exhibited. 

§  xv    Now,  in  all  these  spurs,  the  reader  will  observe  thai 


THE  BASff.  285 

the  narrowest  are  for  the  most  part  the  earliest.  No.  2,  fronj 
the  upper  colonnade  of  St.  Mark's,  is  the  only  instance  I  ever 
saw  of  the  double  spur,  as  transitive  between  the  square  and 
octagon  plinth  ;  the  truncated  form,  1,  is  also  rare  and  very 
ugly.  Nos.  3,  4,  5,  7,  and  9  are  the  general  conditions  of  the 
Byzantine  spur  ;  8  is  a  very  rare  form  of  plan  in  Byzantine 
work,  but  proved  to  be  so  by  its  rude  level  profile  ;  while  7, 
on  the  contrary,  Byzantine  in  plan,  is  eminently  Gothic  in  the 
profile.  9  to  12  are  from  formed  Gothic  buildings,  equally 
refined  in  their  profile  and  plan. 

§  xvi.  The  character  of  the  profile  is  indeed  much  altered 
by  the  accidental  nature  of  the  surface  decoration  ;  but  the 
importance  of  the  broad  difference  between  the  raised  and  flat 
profile  will  be  felt  on  glancing  at  the  examples  1  to  6  in  Plate 
XII.  The  three  upper  examples  are  the  Romanesque  types, 
which  occur  as  parallels  with  the  Byzantine  types,  1  to  3  of 
Plate  XI.  Their  plans  would  be  nearly  the  same  ;  but  instead 
of  resembling  flat  leaves,  they  are  literally  spurs,  or  claws,  as 
high  as  they  are  broad ;  and  the  third,  from  St  Michele  of 
Pavia,  appears  to  be  intended  to  have  its  resemblance  to  a 
claw  enforced  by  the  transverse  fillet.  1  is  from  St.  Ambrogio, 
Milan  ;  2  from  Vienne,  France.  The  4th  type,  Plate  XTL, 
almost  like  the  extremity  of  a  man's  foot,  is  a  Byzantine  form 
(perhaps  worn  on  the  edges),  from  the  nave  of  St.  Mark's  ; 
and  the  two  next  show  the  unity  of  the  two  principles,  form- 
ing the  perfect  Italian  Gothic  types, — 5,  from  tomb  of  Can 
Signorio  della  Scala,  Verona ;  6,  from  San  Stefano,  Venice  (the 
base  11  of  Plate  XL,  in  perspective).  The  two  other  bases, 
10  and  12  of  Plate  XL,  are  conditions  of  the  same  kind, 
showing  the  varieties  of  rise  and  fall  in  exquisite  modulation  ; 
the  10th,  a  type  more  frequent  at  Verona  than  Venice,  in 
which  the  spur  profile  overlaps  the  roll,  instead  of  rising  out 
of  it,  and  seems  to  hold  it  down,  as  if  it  were  a  ring  held  by 
sockets.  This  is  a  character  found  both  in  early  and  late 
work ;  a  kind  of  band,  or  fillet,  appears  to  hold,  and  even 
compress,  the  centre  of  the  roll  in  the  base  of  one  of  the  crypt 
shafts  of  St.  Peter's,  Oxford,  which  has  also  spurs  at  its 
angles  ;  and  long  bands  flow  over  the  base  of  the  angle 


986  TSB  STONES  OP  VENICE. 

shaft  of  the  Ducal  Palace  of  Venice,  next  the  Porta  della 
Carta. 

§  xvn.  When  the  main  contours  of  the  base  are  once  deter- 
mined, its  decoration  is  as  easy  as  it  is  infinite.  I  have  merely 
given,  in  Plate  XLL,  three  examples  to  which  I  shall  need  to 
refer,  hereafter.  No.  9  is  a  very  early  and  curious  one  ;  the 
decoration  of  the  base  6  in  Plate  XL,  representing  a  leaf 
turned  over  and  flattened  down ;  or,  rather,  the  idea  of  the 
turned  leaf,  worked  as  well  as  could  be  imagined  on  the  flat 
contour  of  the  spur.  Then  10  is  the  perfect,  but  simplest 
possible  development  of  the  same  idea,  from  the  earliest 
bases  of  the  upper  colonnade  of  the  Ducal  Palace,  that  is  to 
say,  the  bases  of  the  sea  fapade  ;  and  7  and  8  are  its  lateral 
profile  and  transverse  section.  Finally,  11  and  12  are  two  of 
the  spurs  of  the  later  shafts  of  the  same  colonnade  on  the 
Piazzetta  side  (No.  12  of  Plate  XL).  No.  11  occurs  on  one 
of  these  shafts  only,  and  is  singularly  beautiful.  I  suspect  it 
to  be  earlier  than  the  other,  which  is  the  characteristic  base 
of  the  rest  of  the  series,  and  already  shows  the  loose,  sensual, 
ungoverned  character  of  fifteenth  century  ornament  in  the 
dissoluteness  of  its  rolling. 

§  xvm.  I  merely  give  these  as  examples  ready  to  my  hand, 
and  necessary  for  future  reference  ;  not  as  in  anywise  repre- 
sentative of  the  variety  of  the  Italian  treatment  of  the  general 
contour,  far  less  of  the  endless  caprices  of  the  North.  The 
most  beautiful  base  I  ever  saw,  on  the  whole,  is  a  Byzantine 
one  in  the  Baptistery  of  St.  Mark's,  in  which  the  spur  profile 
approximates  to  that  of  No.  10  in  Plate  XI. ;  but  it  is  formed 
by  a  cherub,  who  sweeps  downwards  on  the  wing.  His  two 
wings,  as  they  half  close,  form  the  upper  part  of  the  spur, 
and  the  rise  of  it  in  the  front  is  formed  by  exactly  the  action 
of  Alichino,  swooping  on  the  pitch  lake :  "  quei  drizzo, 
volando,  suso  il  petto."  But  it  requires  noble  management 
to  confine  such  a  fancy  within  such  limits.  The  greater 
number  of  the  best  bases  are  formed  of  leaves  ;  and  the 
reader  may  amuse  himself  as  he  will  by  endless  inventions  of 
them,  from  types  which  he  may  gather  among  the  weeds  at 
the  nearest  roadside.  The  value  of  the  vegetable  form  is  e*- 


THE  BABE.  281 

pecially  here,  as  above  noted,  Chap.  XX ,  §  xxxii.,  its  capa- 
bility of  unity  with  the  mass  of  the  base,  and  of  being  sug. 
gested  by  few  lines  ;  none  but  the  Northern  Gothic  archi- 
tects are  able  to  introduce  entire  animal  forms  in  this  posi- 
tion with  perfect  success.  There  is  a  beautiful  instance  a* 
the  north  door  of  the  west  front  of  Rouen  ;  a  lizard  pausing 
and  curling  himself  round  a  little  in  the  angle  ;  one  expects 
him  the  next  instant  to  lash  round  the  shaft  and  vanish  :  and 
we  may  with  advantage  compare  this  base  with  those  of 
Renaissance  Scuola  di  San  Rocca  *  at  Venice,  in  which  the 
architect,  imitating  the  mediaeval  bases,  which  he  did  not  un- 
derstand, has  put  an  elephant,  four  inches  higher,  in  the  same 
position. 

§  xrx.  I  have  not  in  this  chapter  spoken  at  all  of  the  pro- 
files which  are  given  in  Northern  architecture  to  the  projec- 
tions of  the  lower  members  of  the  base,  6  and  c  in  Fig.  IL, 
nor  of  the  methods  in  which  both  these,  and  the  rolls  of  the 
mouldings  in  Plate  X.,  are  decorated,  especially  in  Roman 
architecture,  with  superadded  chainwork  or  chasing  of  vari- 
ous patterns.  Of  the  first  I  have  not  spoken,  because  I  shall 
have  no  occasion  to  allude  to  them  in  the  following  essay ; 
nor  of  the  second,  because  I  consider  them  barbarisms. 
Decorated  rolls  and  decorated  ogee  profiles,  such,  for  in- 
stance, as  the  base  of  the  Arc  de  1'Etoile  at  Paris,  are  among 
the  richest  and  farthest  refinements  of  decorative  appliances  ; 
and  they  ought  always  to  be  reserved  for  jambs,  cornices, 
and  archivolts  :  if  you  begin  with  them  in  the  base,  you  have 
no  power  of  refining  your  decorations  as  you  ascend,  and, 
which  is  still  worse,  you  put  your  most  delicate  work  on  the 
jutting  portions  of  the  foundation, — the  very  portions  which 
are  most  exposed  to  abrasion.  The  best  expression  of  a  base 
is  that  of  stern  endurance, — the  look  of  being  able  to  bear 
roughing  ;  or,  if  the  whole  building  is  so  delicate  that  no  one 


*  I  have  put  in  Appendix  24,  "  Renaissance  Bases,"  my  memorandum 
written  respecting  this  building  on  the  spot.  But  the  reader  had  better 
delay  referring  to  it,  until  we  have  completed  our  examination  of  onu» 
nwnts  in  shafts  and  capitals. 


THE  STONES  OP   VENICE. 

can  be  expected  to  treat  even  its  base  with  unkindness,*  then 
at  least  the  expression  of  quiet,  prefatory  simplicity.  The 
angle  spur  may  receive  such  decoration  as  we  have  seen,  be- 
cause it  is  one  of  the  most  important  features  in  the  whole 
building  ;  and  the  eye  is  always  so  attracted  to  it  that  it  can- 
not be  in  rich  architecture  left  altogether  blank  ;  the  eye  is 
stayed  upon  it  by  its  position,  but  glides,  and  ought  to  glide, 
along  the  basic  rolls  to  take  measurement  of  their  length : 
and  even  with  all  this  added  fitness,  the  ornament  of  the 
basic  spur  is  best,  in  the  long  run,  when  it  is  boldest  and  sim- 
plest. The  base  above  described,  §  xvin.,  as  the  most  beau- 
tiful I  ever  saw,  was  not  for  that  reason  the  best  I  ever  saw  : 
beautiful  in  its  place,  in  a  quiet  corner  of  a  Baptistery  sheeted 
with  jasper  and  alabaster,  it  would  have  been  utterly  wrong, 
nay,  even  offensive,  if  used  in  sterner  work,  or  repeated  along 
a  whole  colonnade.  The  base  No.  10  of  Plate  XII.  is  the 
richest  with  which  I  was  ever  perfectly  satisfied  for  general 
service  ;  and  the  basic  spurs  of  the  building  which  I  have 
named  as  the  best  Gothic  monument  in  the  world  (p.  147), 
have  no  ornament  upon  them  whatever.  The  adaptation, 
therefore,  of  rich  cornice  and  roll  mouldings  to  the  level  and 
ordinary  lines  of  bases,  whether  of  walls  or  shafts,  I  hold  to 
be  one  of  the  worst  barbarisms  which  the  Roman  and  Renais- 
sance architects  ever  committed  ;  and  that  nothing  can  after- 
wards redeem  the  effeminacy  and  vulgarity  of  the  buildings 
in  which  it  prominently  takes  place. 

£  xx.  I  have  also  passed  over,  without  present  notice,  the 
fantastic  bases  formed  by  couchant  animals,  which  sustain 
many  Lombardic  shafts.  The  pillars  they  support  have  inde- 
pendent bases  of  the  ordinary  kind  ;  and  the  animal  form  be- 
neath is  less  to  be  considered  as  a  true  base  (though  often 
exquisitely  combined  with  it,  as  in  the  shaft  on  the  south- 
west angle  of  the  cathedral  of  Genoa)  than  as  a  piece  of  sculpt- 
ure, otherwise  necessary  to  the  nobility  of  the  building,  and 
deriving  its  value  from  its  special  positive  fulfilment  of  ex- 
jjwssional  purposes,  with  which  we  have  here  no  concern. 

*  Appendix  25,  "  Romanist  Decoration  of  liases." 


FfF 


PTJLTE  XII — DECORATION  OF  BABE*. 


THE   WALL    VEIL  AND  SHAFT.  289 

As  the  embodiment  of  a  wild  superstition,  and  the  represen- 
tation of  supernatural  powers,  their  appeal  to  the  imagina- 
tion sets  at  utter  defiance  all  judgment  based  on  ordinary 
canons  of  law ;  and  the  magnificence  of  their  treatment 
atones,  in  nearly  every  case,  for  the  extravagance  of  their 
conception.  I  should  not  admit  this  appeal  to  the  imagina- 
tion, if  it  had  been  made  by  a  nation  in  whom  the  powers  of 
body  and  mind  had  been  languid  ;  but  by  the  Lombard, 
strong  in  all  the  realities  of  human  life,  we  need  not  fear 
being  led  astray  :  the  visions  of  a  distempered  fancy  are  not 
indeed  permitted  to  replace  the  truth,  or  set  aside  the  laws  of 
science  :  but  the  imagination  which  is  thoroughly  under  the 
command  of  the  intelligent  will,*  has  a  dominion  indiscerni- 
ble by  science,  and  illimitable  by  law ;  and  we  may  acknowl- 
edge  the  authority  of  the  Lombardic  gryphons  in  the  mere 
splendor  of  their  presence,  without  thinking  idolatry  an  ex- 
cuse for  mechanical  misconstruction,  or  dreading  to  be  called 
upon,  in  other  cases,  to  admire  a  systemless  architecture,  be- 
cause it  may  happen  to  have  sprung  from  an  irrational  relig« 
ion. 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

THE  WALL  VEIL  AND  SHAFT. 

§  L  No  subject  has  been  more  open  ground  of  dispute 
among  architects  than  the  decoration  of  the  wall  veil,  because 
no  decoration  appeared  naturally  to  grow  out  of  its  construc- 
tion ;  nor  could  any  curvatures  be  given  to  its  surface  large 
enough  to  produce  much  impression  on  the  eye.  It  has  be- 
come, therefore,  a  kind  of  general  field  for  experiments  of 
various  effects  of  surface  ornament,  or  has  been  altogether 
abandoned  to  the  mosaicist  and  fresco  painter.  But  we  may 
perhaps  conclude,  from  what  was  advanced  in  the  Fifth  Chap- 

*  In  all  the  wildness  of  the  Lombardic  fancy  (described  in  Appendix 
9},  this  command  of  the  will  over  its  action  is  as  distinct  as  it  is  stern. 
The  fancy  is,  in  the  early   work  of  the  nation,  riaibly  diseased  ;  bcrt 
oever  the  will,  nor  the  reason. 
VOL.  L— 19 


290  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

ter,  that  there  is  one  kind  of  decoration  which  will,  indeed 
naturally  follow  on  its  construction.  For  it  is  perfectly  natu- 
ral that  the  different  kinds  of  stone  used  in  its  successive 
courses  should  be  of  different  colors  ;  and  there  are  many  as- 
sociations and  analogies  which  metaphysically  justify  the  in- 
troduction of  horizontal  bands  of  color,  or  of  light  and  shads. 
They  are,  in  the  first  place,  a  kind  of  expression  of  the  growth 
or  age  of  the  wall,  like  the  rings  in  the  wood  of  a  tree  ;  then 
they  are  a  farther  symbol  of  the  alternation  of  light  and  dark- 
ness, which  was  above  noted  as  the  source  of  the  charm  of 
many  inferior  mouldings :  again,  they  are  valuable  as  an  ex- 
pression of  horizontal  space  to  the  imagination,  space  of  which 
the  conception  is  opposed,  and  gives  more  effect  by  its  oppo- 
sition, to  the  enclosing  power  of  the  wall  itself  (this  I  spoke 
of  as  probably  the  great  charm  of  these  horizontal  bars  to  the 
Arabian  mind)  :  and  again  they  are  valuable  in  their  sugges- 
tion of  the  natural  courses  of  rocks,  and  beds  of  the  earth  it- 
self. And  to  all  these  powerful  imaginative  reasons  we  have 
to  add  the  merely  ocular  charm  of  interlineal  opposition  of 
color ;  a  charm  so  great,  that  all  the  best  colorists,  without  a 
single  exception,  depend  upon  it  for  the  most  piquant  of  their 
pictorial  effects,  some  vigorous  mass  of  alternate  stripes  Or 
bars  of  color  being  made  central  in  all  their  richest  arrange- 
ments. The  whole  system  of  Tintoret's  great  picture  of  the 
Miracle  of  St.  Mark  is  poised  on  the  bars  of  blue,  which  cross 
the  white  turban  of  the  executioner. 

§  n.  There  are,  therefore,  no  ornaments  more  deeply  sug- 
gestive in  their  simplicity  than  these  alternate  bars  of  horizon- 
tal colors  ;  nor  do  I  know  any  buildings  more  noble  than  those 
of  the  Pisan  Romanesque,  in  which  they  are  habitually  em- 
ployed ;  and  certainly  none  so  graceful,  so  attractive,  so  endur- 
ingly  delightful  in  their  nobleness.  Yet,  of  this  pure  and 
graceful  ornamentation,  Professor  Willis  says,  "a  practice  more 
destructive  of  architectural  grandeur  can  hardly  be  conceived  :" 
and  modern  architects  have  substituted  for  it  the  ingeniotw 
ornament  of  which  the  reader  has  had  one  specimen  above, 
Fig.  HI,  p.  72,  and  with  which  half  the  large  buildings  in 
London  are  disfigured,  or  else  traversed  by  mere  straight  lines, 


TEE   WALL    VEIL  AND  SHAFT.  291 

as,  for  instance,  the  back  of  the  Bank.  The  lines  on  the  Bank 
may,  perhaps,  be  considered  typical  of  accounts  ;  but  in 
general  the  walls,  if  left  destitute  of  them,  would  have  been  as 
much  fairer  than  the  walls  charged  with  them,  as  a  sheet  ol 
white  paper  is  than  the  leaf  of  a  ledger.  But  that  the  reader 
may  have  free  liberty  of  judgment  in  this  matter,  I  place  two 
examples  of  the  old  and  the  Renaissance  ornament  side  by 
side  on  the  opposite  page.  That  on  the  right  is  Romanesque, 
from  St.  Pietro  of  Pistoja ;  that  on  the  left,  modern  English, 
from  the  Arthur  Club-house,  St.  James's  Street. 

§  ra.  But  why,  it  will  be  asked,  should  the  lines  which  mark 
the  division  of  the  stones  be  wrong  when  they  are  chiselled, 
and  right  when  they  are  marked  by  color  ?  First,  because 
the  color  separation  is  a  natural  one.  You  build  with  different 
kinds  of  stone,  of  which,  probably,  one  is  more  costly  than 
another  ;  which  latter,  as  you  cannot  construct  your  building 
of  it  entirely,  you  arrange  in  conspicuous  bars.  But  the  chis- 
elling of  the  stones  is  a  wilful  throwing  away  of  time  and  laboi 
in  defacing  the  building  :  it  costs  much  to  hew  one  of  those 
monstrous  blocks  into  shape  ;  and,  when  it  is  done,  the  build- 
ing is  weaker  than  it  was  before,  by  just  as  much  stone  as  has 
been  cut  away  from  its  joints.  And,  secondly,  because,  as  I 
have  repeatedly  urged,  straight  lines  are  ugly  things  as  lines, 
but  admirable  as  limits  of  colored  spaces ;  and  the  joints  of 
the  stones,  which  are  painful  in  proportion  to  their  regularity, 
if  drawn  as  lines,  are  perfectly  agreeable  when  marked  by 
variations  of  hue. 

§  iv.  What  is  true  of  the  divisions  of  stone  by  chiselling, 
is  equally  true  of  divisions  of  bricks  by  pointing.  Nor,  of 
course,  is  the  mere  horizontal  bar  the  only  arrangement  in 
which  the  colors  of  brickwork  or  masonry  can  be  gracefully 
disposed.  It  is  rather  one  which  can  only  be  employed  with 
advantage  when  the  courses  of  stone  are  deep  and  bold.  When 
the  masonry  is  small,  it  is  better  to  throw  its  colors  into  cheq- 
uered patterns.  We  shall  have  several  interesting  examples 
to  study  in  Venice  besides  the  well-known  one  of  the  Ducal 
Palace.  The  town  of  Moulins,  in  France,  is  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  011  this  side  the  Alps  for  its  chequered  patterns  in 


292  THE  STONES  OF  VENIOB. 

bricks.  The  church  of  Christchurch,  Streatham,  lately  built 
though  spoiled  by  many  grievous  errors  (the  iron  work  in 
the  campanile  being  the  grossest),  yet  affords  the  inhabitants 
of  the  district  a  means  of  obtaining  some  idea  of  the  variety 
of  effects  which  are  possible  with  no  other  material  than 
brick, 

§  v.  We  have  yet  to  notice  another  effort  of  the  Renais~ 
sance  architects  to  adorn  the  blank  spaces  of  their  walls  by 
what  is  called  Rustication.  There  is  sometimes  an  obscure 
trace  of  the  remains  of  the  imitation  of  something  organic  in 
this  kind  of  work.  In  some  of  the  better  French  eighteenth 
century  buildings  it  has  a  distinctly  floral  character,  like  a  final 
degradation  of  Flamboyant  leafage  ;  and  some  of  our  modern 
English  architects  appear  to  have  taken  the  decayed  teeth  of 
elephants  for  their  type  ;  but,  for  the  most  part,  it  resembles 
nothing  so  much  as  worm  casts  ;  nor  these  with  any  precision 
If  it  did,  it  would  not  bring  it  within  the  sphere  of  our  prop- 
erly imitative  ornamentation.  I  thought  it  unnecessary  to 
warn  the  reader  that  he  was  not  to  copy  forms  of  refuse  or 
corruption  ;  and  that,  while  he  might  legitimately  take  the 
worm  or  the  reptile  for  a  subject  of  imitation,  he  was  not  to 
study  the  worm  cast  or  coprolite. 

§  VL  It  is,  however,  I  believe,  sometimes  supposed  that  rus- 
tication gives  an  appearance  of  solidity  to  foundation  stones. 
Not  so  ;  at  least  to  any  one  who  knows  the  look  of  a  hard 
stone.  You  may,  by  rustication,  make  your  good  marble  or 
granite  look  like  wet  slime,  honeycombed  by  sand-eels,  or  like 
half-baked  tufo  covered  with  slow  exudation  of  stalactite,  or 
like  rotten  claystone  coated  with  concretions  of  its  own  mud  ; 
but  not  like  the  stones  of  which  the  hard  world  is  built.  Do 
not  think  that  nature  rusticates  her  foundations.  Smooth 
sheets  of  rock,  glistening  like  sea  waves,  and  that  ring  under 
hammer  like  a  brazen  bell, — that  is  her  preparation  for 
first  stories.  She  does  rusticate  sometimes  :  crumbly  sand- 
stones, with  their  ripple-marks  filled  with  red  mud  ;  dusty 
lime-stones,  which  the  rains  wash  into  labyrinthine  cavities  ; 
spongy  lavas,  which  the  volcano  blast  drags  hither  and  thither 
into  ropy  coils  and  bubbling  hollows ; — these  she  rusticate!, 


THE   WALL    VEIL  AND  SHAFT.  29S 

indeed,  when  she  wants  to  make  oyster-shells  and  magnesia 
of  them  ;  but  not  when  she  needs  to  lay  foundations  with 
them.  Then  she  seeks  the  polished  surface  and  iron  heart, 
not  rough  looks  and  incoherent  substance. 

§  vn.  Of  the  richer  modes  of  wall  decoration  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  institute  any  general  comparison  ;  they  are  quite  in- 
finite, from  mere  inlaid  geometrical  figures  up  to  incrustations 
of  elaborate  bas-relief.  The  architect  has  perhaps  more  li- 
cense in  them,  and  more  power  of  producing  good  effect  with 
rude  design  than  in  any  other  features  of  the  building  ;  the 
chequer  and  hatchet  work  of  the  Normans  and  the  rude  bas- 
reliefs  of  the  Lombards  being  almost  as  satisfactory  as  the 
delicate  panelling  and  mosaic  of  the  Duomo  of  Florence. 
3ut  this  is  to  be  noted  of  all  good  wall  ornament,  that  it  re- 
tains the  expression  of  firm  and  massive  substance,  and  of 
broad  surface,  and  that  architecture  instantly  declined  when 
linear  design  was  substituted  for  massive,  and  the  sense  of 
weight  of  wall  was  lost  in  a  wilderness  of  upright  or  undulat- 
ing rods.  Of  the  richest  and  most  delicate  wall  veil  decora- 
tion by  inlaid  work,  as  practised  in  Italy  from  the  twelfth  to 
the  fifteenth  century,  I  have  given  the  reader  two  characteris- 
tic examples  in  Plates  XX.  and  XXL 

§  vm.  There  are,  however,  three  spaces  in  which  the  wall 
veil,  peculiarly  limited  in  shape,  was  always  felt  to  be  fitted 
for  surface  decoration  of  the  most  elaborate  kind  ;  and  in 
these  spaces  are  found  the  most  majestic  instances  of  its 
treatment,  even  to  late  periods.  One  of  these  is  the  spandril 
space,  or  the  filling  be- 
tween any  two  arches, 
commonly  of  the  shape 
o,  Fig.  LXL  ;  the  half 
of  which,  or  the  flank 

filling  of  any   arch,  is  tf  IT" 

called    a  spandril.     In  F».  T.TT 

Chapter  XVLL,  on  Fill- 
ing of  Apertures,  the  reader  will  find  another  of  these  spaces 
noted,  called  the  tympanum,  and  commonly  of  the  form  b, 
Fig.  LXL  :  and  finally,  in  Chapter  XVIIL,  he  will  find  the 


294  THE  STONES   OF    VENICE. 

third  space  described,  that  between  an  arch  and  its  protecting 
gable,  approximating  generally  to  the  form  c,  Fig.  LXI. 

§  ix.  The  methods  of  treating  these  spaces  might  alone  fur- 
nish subject  for  three  very  interesting  essays  ;  but  I  shall 
only  note  the  most  essential  points  respecting  them. 

(1.)  The  Spandril.  It  was  observed  in  Chapter  XIL,  that 
this  portion  of  the  arch  load  might  frequently  be  lightened 
with  great  advantage  by  piercing  it  with  a  circle,  or  with  a 
group  of  circles  ;  and  the  roof  of  the  Euston  Square  railroad 
station  was  adduced  as  an  example.  One  of  the  spandril 
decorations  of  Bayeux  Cathedral  is  given  in  the  "Seven 
Lamps,"  Plate  "VTL  fig.  4.  It  is  little  more  than  one  of  these 
Euston  Square  spandrils,  with  its  circles  foliated. 

Sometimes  the  circle  is  entirely  pierced  ;  at  other  times  it 
is  merely  suggested  by  a  mosaic  or  light  tracery  on  the  wall 
surface,  as  in  the  plate  opposite,  which  is  one  of  the  spandrils 
of  the  Ducal  Palace  at  Venice.  It  was  evidently  intended 
that  all  the  spandrils  of  this  building  should  be  decorated  in 
this  manner,  but  only  two  of  them  seem  to  have  been  com- 
pleted.* 

§  x.  The  other  modes  of  spandril  filling  may  be  broadly 
reduced  to  four  heads.  1.  Free  figure  sculpture,  as  in  the 
Chapter-house  of  Salisbury,  and  very  superbly  along  the  west 
front  of  Bourges,  the  best  Gothic  spandrils  I  know.  2.  Radi- 
ated foliage,  more  or  less  referred  to  the  centre,  or  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  spandril  for  its  origin  ;  single  figures  with  expanded 
wings  often  answering  the  same  purpose.  3.  Trefoils ;  and  4, 
ordinary  wall  decoration  continued  into  the  spandril  space,  as 
in  Plate  XUL,  above,  from  St.  Pietro  at  Pistoja,  and  in  West- 
minster Abbey.  The  Renaissance  architects  introduced  span- 
dril fillings  composed  of  colossal  human  figures  reclining  on 
the  sides  of  the  arch,  in  precarious  lassitude  ;  but  these  can- 
not come  under  the  head  of  wall  veil  decoration. 

§  xi.   (2.)  The  Tympanum.     It  was  noted  that,  in  Gothic 

architecture,  this  is  for  the  most  part  a  detached  slab  of  stone, 

having  no  constructional  relation  to  the  rest  of  the  building. 

The  plan  of  its  sculpture  is  therefore  quite  arbitrary  ;  and,  aa 

*  Vide  end  of  Appendix  20. 


THE   WALL    VEIL  AND  SHAFT.  295 

it  is  generally  in  a  conspicuous  position,  near  the  eye,  and 
above  the  entrance,  it  is  almost  always  charged  with  a  series 
of  rich  figure  sculptures,  solemn  in  feeling  and  consecutive  in 
subject  It  occupies  in  Christian  sacred  edifices  very  nearly 
the  position  of  the  pediment  in  Greek  sculpture.  This  latter 
is  itself  a  kind  of  tympanum,  and  charged  with  sculpture  in 
the  same  manner. 

§  xn.  (3.)  The  Gable.  The  same  principles  apply  to  it 
which  have  been  noted  respecting  the  spandril,  with  one  more 
of  some  importance.  The  chief  difficulty  in  treating  a  gable 
lies  in  the  excessive  sharpness  of  its  upper  point.  It  may,  in- 
deed, on  its  outside  apex,  receive  a  finial ;  but  the  meeting 
of  the  inside  lines  of  its  terminal  mouldings  is  necessarily 
both  harsh  and  conspicuous,  unless  artificially  concealed.  The 
most  beautiful  victory  I  have  ever  seen  obtained  over  this  dif- 
ficulty was  by  placing  a  sharp  shield,  its  point,  as  usual, 
downwards,  at  the  apex  of  the  gable,  which  exactly  reversed 
the  offensive  lines,  yet  without  actually  breaking  them  ;  the 
gable  being  completed  behind  the  shield.  The  same  thing  is 
done  in  the  Northern  and  Southern  Gothic  :  in  the  porches  of 
Abbeville  and  the  tombs  of  Verona. 

§  xiii.  I  believe  there  is  little  else  to  be  noted  of  general 
laws  of  ornament  respecting  the  wall  veil  We  have  next  to 
consider  its  concentration  in  the  shaft. 

Now  the  principal  beauty  of  a  shaft  is  its  perfect  proportion 
to  its  work, — its  exact  expression  of  necessary  strength.  If 
this  has  been  truly  attained,  it  will  hardly  need,  in  some  cases 
hardly  bear,  more  decoration  than  is  given  to  it  by  its  own 
rounding  and  taper  curvatures  ;  for,  if  we  cut  ornaments  in 
intaglio  on  its  surface,  we  weaken  it ;  if  we  leave  them  in 
relief,  we  overcharge  it,  and  the  sweep  of  the  line  from  its 
base  to  its  summit,  though  deduced  in  Chapter  VUL,  from 
necessities  of  construction,  is  already  one  of  gradated  curva- 
ture, and  of  high  decorative  value. 

§  xrv.  It  is,  however,  carefully  to  be  noted,  that  decorations 
are  admissible  on  colossal  and  on  diminutive  shafts,  which  are 
wrong  upon  those  of  middle  size.  For,  when  the  shaft  is 
enormous,  incisions  or  sculpture  on  its  sides  (unless  colossal 


296  TEE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

also),  do  not  materially  interfere  with  the  sweep  of  its  curve, 
nor  diminish  the  efficiency  of  its  sustaining  mass.  And  if  it 
be  diminutive,  its  sustaining  function  is  comparatively  of  so 
small  importance,  the  injurious  results  of  failure  so  much  less, 
and  the  relative  strength  and  cohesion  of  its  mass  so  much 
greater,  that  it  may  be  suffered  in  the  extravagance  of  orna* 
ment  or  outline  which  would  be  unendurable  in  a  shaft  of 
middle  size,  and  impossible  in  one  of  colossal.  Thus,  the 
shafts  drawn  in  Plate  XHL,  of  the  "  Seven  Lamps,"  though 
given  as  examples  of  extravagance,  are  yet  pleasing  in  the  gen- 
eral effect  of  the  arcade  they  support ;  being  each  some  six  or 
seven  feet  high.  But  they  would  have  been  monstrous,  aa 
well  as  unsafe,  if  they  had  been  sixty  or  seventy. 

§  xv.  Therefore,  to  determine  the  general  rule  for  shaft 
decoration,  we  must  ascertain  the  proportions  representative 
of  the  mean  bulk  of  shafts  :  they  might  easily  be  calculated 
from  a  sufficient  number  of  examples,  but  it  may  perhaps  be 
assumed,  for  our  present  general  purpose,  that  the  mean 
standard  would  be  of  some  twenty  feet  in  height,  by  eight  or 
nine  in  circumference :  then  this  will  be  the  size  on  which 
decoration  is  most  difficult  and  dangerous  :  and  shafts  become 
more  and  more  fit  subjects  for  decoration,  as  they  rise  farther 
above,  or  fall  farther  beneath  it,  until  very  small  and  very  vast 
shafts  will  both  be  found  to  look  blank  unless  they  receive 
some  chasing  or  imagery  ;  blank,  whether  they  support  a  chair 
or  table  on  the  one  side,  or  sustain  a  village  on  the  ridge  of 
an  Egyptian  architrave  on  the  other. 

§  XVL  Of  the  various  ornamentation  of  colossal  shafts,  there 
are  no  examples  so  noble  as  the  Egyptian ;  these  the  reader 
can  study  in  Mr.  Roberts'  work  on  Egypt  nearly  as  well,  I 
imagine,  as  if  he  were  beneath  their  shadow,  one  of  their  chief 
merits,  as  examples  of  method,  being  the  perfect  decision  and 
visibility  of  their  designs  at  the  necessary  distance  :  contrast 
with  these  the  incrustations  of  bas-relief  on  the  Trajan  pillar, 
much  interfering  with  the  smooth  lines  of  the  shaft,  and  yet 
themselves  untraceable,  if  not  invisible. 

§  xvn.  On  shafts  of  middle  size,  the  only  ornament  which 
has  ever  been  accepted  as  right,  is  the  Doric  fluting,  which, 


THE   WALL    VEIL  AND  SHAFT.  297 

indeed,  gave  the  effect  of  a  succession  of  unequal  lines  of 
shade,  but  lost  much  of  the  repose  of  the  cylindrical  gradation. 
The  Corinthian  fluting,  which  is  a  mean  multiplication  and 
deepening  of  the  Doric,  with  a  square  instead  of  a  sharp  ridge 
between  each  hollow,  destroyed  the  serenity  of  the  shaft  alto- 
gether; and  is  always  rigid  and  meagre.  Both  are,  in  fact, 
\vrong  in  principle  ;  they  are  an  elaborate  weakening  *  of  the 
shaft,  exactly  opposed  (as  above  shown)  to  the  ribbed  form, 
which  is  the  result  of  a  group  of  shafts  bound  together,  and 
which  is  especially  beautiful  when  special  service  is  given  to 
each  member. 

§  xvni.  On  shafts  of  inferior  size,  every  species  of  decora- 
tion may  be  wisely  lavished,  and  in  any  quantity,  so  only  that 
the  form  of  the  shaft  be  clearly  visible.  This  I  hold  to  be 
absolutely  essential,  and  that  barbarism  begins  wherever  the 
sculpture  is  either  so  bossy,  or  so  deeply  cut,  as  to  break  the 
contour  of  the  shaft,  or  compromise  its  solidity.  Thus,  in 
Plate  XXL  (Appendix  8),  the  richly  sculptured  shaft  of  the 
lower  story  has  lost  its  dignity  and  definite  function,  and  be- 
come a  shapeless  mass,  injurious  to  the  symmetry  of  the  build- 
ing, though  of  some  value  as  adding  to  its  imaginative  and 
fantastic  character.  Had  all  the  shafts  been  like  it,  the  fayade 
would  have  been  entirely  spoiled  ;  the  inlaid  pattern,  on  the 
contrary,  which  is  used  on  the  shortest  shaft  of  the  upper 
story,  adds  to  its  preciousness  without  interfering  with  its 
purpose,  and  is  every  way  delightful,  as  are  all  the  inlaid  shaft 
ornaments  of  this  noble  church  (another  example  of  them  is 
given  in  Plate  XH.  of  the  "Seven  Lamps").  The  same  rule 
would  condemn  the  Caryatid  ;  which  I  entirely  agree  with  Mr. 
Fergusson  in  thinking  (both  for  this  and  other  reasons)  one 
of  the  chief  errors  of  the  Greek  schools ;  and,  more  decisively 
still,  the  Renaissance  inventions  of  shaft  ornament,  almost  too 
absurd  and  too  monstrous  to  be  seriously  noticed,  which  con- 
sist in  leaving  square  blocks  between  the  cylinder  joints,  as  in 
the  portico  of  No.  1,  Regent  Street,  and  many  other  buildings 
in  London  ;  or  in  rusticating  portions  of  the  shafts,  or  wrap 

*  Vid«,  however,  their  defence  in  the  Essay  above  quoted,  p.  351. 


293 


THE  STONES  OF   VENICE, 


ping  fleeces  about  them,  as  at  the  entrance  of  Burlington 
House,  in  Piccadilly  ;  or  tying  drapery  round  them  in  knots, 
as  in  the  new  buildings  above  noticed  (Chap.  20,  §  vn.),  at 
Paris.  But,  within  the  limits  thus  defined,  there  is  no  feature 
capable  of  richer  decoration  than  the  shaft ;  the  most  beauti- 
ful examples  of  all  I  have  seen,  are  the  slender  pillars,  encrusted 
with  arabesques,  which  flank  the  portals  of  the  Baptistery  and 
Duomo  at  Pisa,  and  some  others  of  the  Pisan  and  Lucchese 
churches ;  but  the  varieties  of  sculpture  and  inlaying,  with 
which  the  small  Romanesque  shafts,  whether  Italian  or  North- 
ern, are  adorned  when  they  occupy  important  positions,  are 
quite  endless,  and  nearly  all  admirable.  Mr.  Digby  Wyatt 
has  given  a  beautiful  example  of  inlaid  work  so  employed, 
from  the  cloisters  of  the  Lateran,  in  his  work  on  early  mosaic ; 
an  example  which  unites  the  surface  decoration  of  the  shaft 
with  the  adoption  of  the  spiral  contour. 
This  latter  is  often  all  the  decoration  which 
is  needed,  and  none  can  be  more  beautiful ; 
it  has  been  spoken  against,  like  many  other 
good  and  lovely  things,  because  it  has  been 
too  often  used  in  extravagant  degrees,  like 
the  well-known  twisting  of  the  pillars  in 
Baffaelle's  "Beautiful  gate."  But  that  ex- 
travagant condition  was  a  Renaissance  bar- 
barism :  the  old  Romanesque  builders  kept 
their  spirals  slight  and  pure  ;  often,  as  in  the 
example  from  St.  Zeno,  in  Plate  XVIL  below, 
giving  only  half  a  turn  from  the  base  of  the 
shaft  to  its  head,  and  nearly  always  observing 
what  I  hold  to  be  an  imperative  law,  that  no 
twisted  shaft  shall  be  single,  but  composed  of  at  least  two 
distinct  members,  twined  with  each  other.  I  suppose  they 
followed  their  own  right  feeling  in  doing  this,  and  had  never 
studied  natural  shafts ;  but  the  type  they  might  have  followed 
was  caught  by  one  of  the  few  great  painters  who  were  not  af- 
fected by  the  evil  influence  of  the  fifteenth  century,  Benozzo 
Gozzoli,  who,  in  the  frescoes  of  the  Ricardi  Palace,  among 
•toms  of  trees  for  the  most  part  as  vertical  as  stone  shafts,  haa 


no.  LXII. 


THE  CORNICE  AND   CAPITAL.  299 

suddenly  introduced  one  of  the  shape  given  in  Fig.  LXH 
Many  ^ forest  tree?  present,  in  their  accidental  contortions, 
types  of  most  complicated  spiral  shafts,  the  plan  being  origi- 
nally of  a  grouped  shaft  rising  from  several  roots  ;  nor, 
indeed,  will  the  reader  ever  find  models  for  every  kind  of  shaft 
decoration,  so  graceful  or  so  gorgeous,  as  he  will  find  in  the 
great  forest  aisle,  where  the  strength  of  the  earth  itself  seems 
to  rise  from  the  roots  into  the  vaulting  ;  but  the  shaft  surface, 
barred  as  it  expands  with  rings  of  ebony  and  silver,  is  fretted 
with  traceries  of  ivy,  marbled  with  purple  moss,  veined  with 
grey  lichen,  and  tesselated,  by  the  rays  of  the  rolling  heaven, 
with  flitting  fancies  of  blue  shadow  and  burning  gold. 


CHAPTER  XXVtt 

THE   CORNICE   AND    CAPITAL. 

§  i.  THERE  are  no  features  to  which  the  attention  of  archi- 
tects has  been  more  laboriously  directed,  in  all  ages,  than 
these  crowning  members  of  the  wall  and  shaft ;  and  it  would 
be  vain  to  endeavor,  within  any  moderate  limits,  to  give  the 
reader  any  idea  of  the  various  kinds  of  admirable  decoration 
which  have  been  invented  for  them.  But,  in  proportion  to 
the  effort  and  straining  of  the  fancy,  have  been  the  extrava- 
gances into  which  it  has  occasionally  fallen  ;  and  while  it  is 
utterly  impossible  severally  to  enumerate  the  instances  either 
of  its  success  or  its  error,  it  is  very  possible  to  note  the  limits 
of  the  one  and  the  causes  of  the  other.  This  is  all  that  we 
shall  attempt  in  the  present  chapter,  tracing  first  for  our- 
selves, as  in  previous  instances,  the  natural  channels  by  which 
invention  is  here  to  be  directed  or  confined,  and  afterwards 
remarking  the  places  where,  in  real  practice,  it  has  broken 
bounds. 

§  H.  The  reader  remembers,  I  hope,  the  main  points  respect- 
ing the  cornice  and  capital,  established  above  in  the  Chapters 
on  Construction.  Of  these  I  must,  however,  recapitulate  thus 
much  : — 

Stones  of  Venice— VoL  L— i4 


800  THE  STONES  Of     VENICE. 

1.  That  both  the  cornice  and  capital  are,  with  reference  to 
file  slope  of  their  profile  or  bell,  to  be  divided  into  two  great 
orders ;  in  one  of  which  the  ornament  is  convex,-  and  in  the 
other  concave.     (Ch.  VI.,  §  v.) 

2.  That  the  capital,  with  reference  to  the  method  of  twist- 
ing the  cornice  round  to  construct  it,  and  to  unite  the  circular 
shaft  with  the  square  abacus,  falls  into  five  general  forms,  rep- 
resented in  Fig.  XXH.,  p.  117. 

3.  That  the  most  elaborate  capitals  were  formed  by  true  or 
ample  capitals  with  a  common  cornice  added  above  their  aba- 
cus.    (Ch.  IX.,  §  xxrv.) 

We  have  then,  in  considering  decoration,  first  to  observe 
the  treatment  of  the  two  great  orders  of  the  cornice  ;  then 
their  gathering  into  the  five  of  the  capital ;  then  the  addition 
of  the  secondary  cornice  to  the  capital  when  formed. 

§  m.  The  two  great  orders  or  families  of  cornice  were 
above  distinguished  in  Fig.  V.,  p.  75.  ;  and  it  was  mentioned 
in  the  same  place  that  a  third  family  arose  from  their  com- 
bination. We  must  deal  with  the  two  great  opposed  ;?roups 
nrst. 

They  were  distinguished  in  Fig.  V.  by  circular  curves  drawn 
on  opposite  sides  of  the  same  line.  But  we  now  know  that 
in  these  smaller  features  the  circle  is  usually  the  least  inter- 
esting curve  that  we  can  use ;  and  that  it  will  be  well,  since 
the  capital  and  cornice  are  both  active  in  their  expression,  to 
use  some  of  the  more  abstract  natural  lines.  We  will  go 
back,  therefore,  to  our  old  friend  the  salvia  leaf  ;  and  taking 
the  same  piece  of  it  we  had  before,  x  y,  Plate  VII.,  we  will 
apply  it  to  the  cornice  line  ;  first  within  it,  giving  the  concave 
cornice,  then  without,  giving  the  convex  cornice.  In  all  the 
figures,  a,  b,  c,  d,  Plate  XV.,  the  dotted  line  is  at  the  same 
slope,  and  represents  an  average  profile  of  the  root  of  cornices 
(a,  Fig.  V.,  p.  76) ;  the  curve  of  the  salvia  leaf  is  applied  to  it 
in  each  case,  first  with  its  roundest  curvature  up,  then  with 
its  roundest  curvature  down  ;  and  we  have  thus  the  two  varie- 
ties, a  and  6,  of  the  concave  family,  and  c  and  d,  of  the  convex 
family. 

§  IT.  These  four  profiler  will  represent  all  the  simjale  cor- 


PT.ATE  XV.— COBHICK  PROFILES. 


THE  CORNICE  AND   CAPITAL.  301 

Bices  in  the  world  ;  represent  them,  I  mean,  as  central  types: 
for  in  any  of  the  profiles  an  infinite  number  of  slopes  may  be 
given  to  the  dotted  line  of  the  root  (which  in  these  four  fig- 
ures is  always  at  the  same  angle) ;  and  on  each  of  these  innu- 
merable slopes  an  innumerable  variety  of  curves  may  be  fitted, 
from  every  leaf  in  the  forest,  and  every  shell  on  the  shore, 
and  every  movement  of  the  human  fingers  and  fancy  ;  there- 
fore, if  the  reader  wishes  to  obtain  something  like  a  numerical 
representation  of  the  number  of  possible  and  beautiful  cornices 
which  may  be  based  upon  these  four  types  or  roots,  and  among 
which  the  architect  has  leave  to  choose  according  to  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  building  and  the  method  of  its  composi- 
tion, let  him  set  down  a  figure  1  to  begin  with,  and  write 
cyphers  after  it  as  fast  as  he  can,  without  stopping,  for  an 
hour. 

§  v.  None  of  the  types  are,  however,  found  in  perfection  of 
curvature,  except  in  the  best  work.  Very  often  cornices  are 
worked  with  circular  segments  (with  a  noble,  massive  effect, 
for  instance,  in  St.  Michele  of  Lucca),  or  with  rude  approxi- 
mation to  finer  curvature,  especially  a,  Plate  XV.,  which  oc- 
curs often  so  small  as  to  render  it  useless  to  take  much  pains 
upon  its  curve.  It  occurs  perfectly  pure  in  the  condition  rep- 
resented by  1  of  the  series  1 — 6,  in  Plate  XV.,  on  many  of 
the  Byzantine  and  early  Gothic  buildings  of  Venice  ;  in  more 
developed  form  it  becomes  the  profile  of  the  bell  of  the  capital 
in  the  later  Venetian  Gothic,  and  in  much  of  tho  best  North- 
ern Gothic.  It  also  represents  the  Corinthian  capital,  in 
which  the  curvature  is  taken  from  the  bell  to  be  added  in 
some  excess  to  the  nodding  leaves.  It  is  the  most  graceful  of 
all  simple  profiles  of  cornice  and  capital. 

§  vi.  b  is  a  much  rarer  and  less  manageable  type  :  for  this 
evident  reason,  that  while  a  is  the  natural  condition  of  a  line 
rooted  and  strong  beneath,  but  bent  out  by  superincumbent 
weight,  or  nodding  over  in  freedom,  b  is  yielding  at  the  base 
and  rigid  at  the  summit.  It  has,  however,  some  exquisite 
uses,  especially  in  combination,  as  the  reader  may  see  by 
glancing  in  advance  at  the  inner  line  of  the  profile  14  in  Plate 
XV. 


302  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

§  vn.  c  is  the  leading  convex  or  Doric  type,  as  a  is  the  lead- 
ing concave  or  Corinthian.  Its  relation  to  the  best  Greek 
Doric  is  exactly  what  the  relation  of  a  is  to  the  Corinthian  ; 
that  is  to  say,  the  curvature  must  be  taken  from  the  straighter 
limb  of  the  curve  and  added  to  the  bolder  bend,  giving  it  a 
sudden  turn  inwards  (as  in  the  Corinthian  a  nod  outwards); 
AS  the  reader  may  see  in  the  capital  of  the  Parthenon  in  th« 
British  Museum,  where  the  lower  limb  of  the  curve  is  all  but  a 
right  line.*  But  these  Doric  and  Corinthian  lines  are  mere 
varieties  of  the  great  families  which  are  represented  by  the 
central  lines  a  and  c,  including  not  only  the  Doric  capital,  but 
all  the  small  cornices  formed  by  a  slight  increase  of  the  curve 
<rf  c,  which  are  of  so  frequent  occurrence  in  Greek  ornamenta 

§  vm.  d  is  the  Christian  Doric,  which  I  said  (Chap.  L,  §  xx.) 
was  invented  to  replace  the  antique  :  it  is  the  representative 
of  the  great  Byzantine  and  Norman  families  of  convex  cornice 
and  capital,  and,  next  to  the  profile  a,  the  most  important  of 
the  four,  being  the  best  profile  for  the  convex  capital,  as  a  is 
for  the  concave  ;  a  being  the  best  expression  of  an  elastic  line 
inserted  vertically  in  the  shaft,  and  d  of  an  elastic  line  inserted 
horizontally  and  rising  to  meet  vertical  pressure. 

If  the  reader  will  glance  at  the  arrangements  of  boughs  of 
trees,  he  will  find  them  commonly  dividing  into  these  two 
families,  a  and  d  :  they  rise  out  of  the  trunk  and  nod  from  it, 
as  a,  or  they  spring  with  sudden  curvature  out  from  it, 
and  rise  into  sympathy  with  it,  as  at  d ;  but  they  only  acci- 
dentally display  tendencies  to  the  lines  6  or  c.  Boughs  which 
fall  as  they  spring  from  the  tree  also  describe  the  curve  d  in 
the  plurality  of  instances,  but  reversed  in  arrangement ;  their 
junction  with  the  stem  being  at  the  top  of  it,  their  sprays 
bending  out  into  rounder  curvature. 

§  nt.  These  then  being  the  two  primal  groups,  we  have 
next  to  note  the  combined  group,  formed  by  the  concave  and 
convex  lines  joined  in  various  proportions  of  curvature,  so  as 
to  form  together  the  reversed  or  ogee  curve,  represented  in 

*  In  very  early  Doric  it  was  an  absolute  right  line  ;  and  that  capital 
is  therefore  derived  from  the  pure  cornice  root,  represented  bj  the 
dotted  line. 


THE  CORNICE  AND   CAPITAL.  308 

one  of  its  most  beautiful  states  by  the  glacier  line  a,  on  Plate 
VlL  i  would  rather  have  taken  this  line  than  any  other  to 
have  formed  my  third  group  of  cornices  by,  but  as  it  is  too 
large,  and  almost  too  delicate,  we  will  take  instead  that  of  the 
Matterhorn  side,  ef,  Plate  VII  For  uniformity's  sake  I  keep 
the  slope  of  the  dotted  line  the  same  as  in  the  primal  forms ; 
and  applying  this  Matterhorn  curve  in  its  four  relative  posi- 
tions to  that  line,  I  have  the  types  of  the  four  cornices  or 
capitals  of  the  third  family,  e,  f,  g,  h,  on  Plate  XV. 

These  are,  however,  general  types  only  thus  far,  that  their 
line  is  composed  of  one  short  and  one  long  curve,  and  that 
they  represent  the  four  conditions  of  treatment  of  every  such 
line  ;  namely,  the  longest  curve  concave  in  e  and  f,  and  con- 
vex in  g  and  h  ;  and  the  point  of  contrary  flexure  set  high  in 
e  and  g,  and  low  in  f  and  h.  The  relative  depth  of  the  arcs, 
or  nature  of  their  curvature,  cannot  be  taken  into  considera- 
tion without  a  complexity  of  system  which  my  space  does  not 
admit. 

Of  the  four  types  thus  constituted,  e  and  /are  of  great  im- 
portance ;  the  other  two  are  rarely  used,  having  an  appear- 
ance of  weakness  in  consequence  of  the  shortest  curve  being 
concave :  the  profiles  e  and  f,  when  used  for  cornices,  have 
usually  a  fuller  sweep  and  somewhat  greater  equality  between 
the  branches  of  the  curve  ;  but  those  here  given  are  better 
representatives  of  the  structure  applicable  to  capitals  and  cor- 
nices indifferently. 

§  x.  Very  often,  in  the  farther  treatment  of  the  profiles  « 
or/,  another  limb  is  added  to  their  curve  in  order  to  join  it  to 
the  upper  or  lower  members  of  the  cornice  or  capital  I  do 
not  consider  this  addition  as  forming  another  family  of  cor- 
nices, because  the  leading  and  effective  part  of  the  curve  is  in 
these,  as  in  the  others,  the  single  ogee  ;  and  the  added  bend 
is  merely  a  less  abrupt  termination  of  it  above  or  below  :  still 
this  group  is  of  so  great  importance  in  the  richer  kinds  of 
ornamentation  that  we  must  have  it  sufficiently  represented. 
We  shall  obtain  a  type  of  it  by  merely  continuing  the  line  at 
the  Matterhorn  side,  of  which  before  we  took  only  a  fragment 
The  entire  line  e  to  g  on  Plate  VIL,  is  evidently  composed  of 


304  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

three  curves  of  unequal  lengths,  which  if  we  call  the  shortest 
1,  the  intermediate  one  2,  and  the  longest  3,  are  there  arranged 
in  the  order  1,  3,  2,  counting  upwards.  But  evidently  wa 
might  also  have  had  the  arrangements  1,  2,  3,  and  2,  1,  3, 
giving  us  three  distinct  lines,  altogether  independent  of  posi- 
tion, which  being  applied  to  one  general  dotted  slope  will  each 
give  four  cornices,  or  twelve  altogether.  Of  these  the  sii 
most  important  are  those  which  have  the  shortest  curve  con- 
vex :  they  are  given  in  light  relief  from  k  to  p,  Plate  XV.,  and, 
by  turning  the  page  upside  down,  the  other  six  will  be  seen 
in  dark  relief,  only  the  little  upright  bits  of  shadow  at  the 
bottom  are  not  to  be  considered  as  parts  of  them,  being  only 
admitted  in  order  to  give  the  complete  profile  of  the  more 
important  cornices  in  light. 

§  XL  In  these  types,  as  in  e  and/,  the  only  general  condi- 
tion is,  that  .their  line  shall  be  composed  of  three  curves  of  dif- 
ferent lengths  and  different  arrangements  (the  depth  of  area 
and  radius  of  curvatures  being  unconsidered).  They  are  ar- 
ranged in  three  couples,  each  couple  being  two  positions  ot 
the  same  entire  line  ;  so  that  numbering  the  component  curves 
in  order  of  magnitude  and  counting  upwards,  they  will  read — = 

k  1,  2,  3, 

I  3,  2,  1, 

m  1,  3,  2, 

n  2,  3,  1, 

o  2,  1,  3, 

p  3,  1,  2. 

m  and  n,  which  are  the  Matterhorn  line,  are  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  important  of  all  the  twelve  ;  k  and  I  the  next  ;  o  and 
p  are  used  only  for  certain  conditions  of  flower  carving  on 
the  surface.  The  reverses  (dark)  of  k  and  I  are  also  of  con- 
siderable service  ;  the  other  four  hardly  ever  used  in  good 
work. 

§  xn.  If  we  were  to  add  a  fourth  curve  to  the  component 
series,  we  should  have  forty-eight  more  cornices  :  but  there 
is  no  use  in  pursuing  the  system,  further,  as  such  arrange* 


PLATE  XVI.— CORNICE  DECORATION. 


THE  CORNICE  AND   CAPITAL.  805 

ments  are  Tery  rare  and  easily  resolved  into  the  simpler  types 
with  certain  arbitrary  additions  fitted  to  their  special  place  ; 
and,  in  most  cases,  distinctly  separate  from  the  main  curve,  as 
in  the  inner  line  of  No.  14,  which  is  a  form  of  the  type  e, 
the  longest  curve,  i.e.,  the  lowest,  having  deepest  curvature, 
and  each  limb  opposed  by  a  short  contrary  curve  at  its  ex- 
tremities, the  convex  limb  by  a  concave,  the  concave  by  a 
cciivex. 

§  xm.  Such,  then,  are  the  great  families  of  profile  lines 
into  which  all  cornices  and  capitals  may  be  divided  ;  but  their 
best  examples  unite  two  such  profiles  in  a  mode  which  we 
cannot  understand  till  we  consider  the  further  ornament  with 
which  the  profiles  are  charged.  And  in  doing  this  we  must. 
*for  the  sake  of  clearness,  consider,  first  the  nature  of  the  de- 
signs themselves,  and  next  the  mode  of  cutting  them. 

§  xrv.  In  Plate  XVI.,  opposite,  I  have  thrown  together  a 
few  of  the  most  characteristic  mediaeval  examples  of  the  treat- 
ment of  the  simplest  cornice  profiles  :  the  uppermost,  a,  is  the 
pure  root  of  cornices  from  St.  Mark's.  The  second,  d,  is  the 
Christian  Doric  cornice,  here  lettered  d  in  order  to  avoid  con- 
fusion, its  profile  being  d  of  Plate  XV.  in  bold  development, 
and  here  seen  on  the  left-hand  side,  truly  drawn,  though  filled 
up  with  the  ornament  to  show  the  mode  in  which  the  angle 
is  turned.  This  is  also  from  St.  Mark's.  The  third,  6,  is  b 
of  Plate  XV.,  the  pattern  being  inlaid  in  black  because  its 
office  was  in  the  interior  of  St.  Mark's,  where  it  was  too  dark 
to  see  sculptured  ornament  at  the  required  distance.  (The 
other  two  simple  profiles,  a  and  c  of  Plate  XV.,  would  be  dec- 
orated in  the  same  manner,  but  require  no  example  here,  for 
the  profile  a  is  of  so  frequent  occurrence  that  it  will  have  a 
page  to  itself  alone  in  the  next  volume  ;  and  c  may  be  seen 
over  nearly  every  shop  in  London,  being  that  of  the  common 
Greek  egg  cornice.)  The  fourth,  e  in  Plate  XVL,  is  a  tran- 
sitional cornice,  passing  from  Byzantine  into  Venetian  Gothic  : 
/  is  a  fully  developed  Venetian  Gothic  cornice  founded  on 
Byzantine  traditions  ;  and  g  the  perfect  Lombardic-Gothio 
cornice,  founded  on  the  Pisan  Eomauesque  traditions,  and 
strongly  marked  with  the  noblest  Northern  element*  the  Lorn 
w^«.  L— 20 


$06  TEE  STONES  OF    VENICE. 

bardic  vitality  restrained  by  classical  models.  I  consider  it  a 
perfect  cornice,  and  of  the  highest  order. 

§  xv.  Now  in  the  design  of  this  series  of  ornaments  there 
are  two  main  points  to  be  noted ;  the  first,  that  they  all,  ex- 
cept 6,  are  distinctly  rooted  in  the  lower  part  of  the  cornice, 
and  spring  to  the  top.  This  arrangement  is  constant  in  all 
the  best  cornices  and  capitals  ;  and  it  is  essential  to  the  ex- 
pression of  the  supporting  power  of  both.  It  is  exactly  op- 
posed to  the  •ystem  of  running  cornices  and  banded  *  capitals, 
in  which  the  ornament  flows  along  them  horizontally,  or  is 
twined  round  them,  as  the  mouldings  are  in  the  early  English 
capital,  and  the  foliage  in  many  decorated  ones.  Such  cor- 
nices have  arisen  from  a  mistaken  appliance  of  the  running 
ornaments,  which  are  proper  to  archivolts,  jambs,  &c.,  to  the 
features  which  have  definite  functions  of  support  A  tendril 
may  nobly  follow  the  outline  of  an  arch,  but  must  not  creep 
along  a  cornice,  nor  swathe  or  bandage  a  capital ;  it  is  essen- 
tial to  the  expression  of  these  features  that  their  ornament 
should  Lave  an  elastic  and  upward  spring  ;  and  as  the  proper 
profile  for  the  curve  is  that  of  a  tree  bough,  as  we  saw  above, 
so  the  proper  arrangement  of  its  farther  ornament  is  that 
which  best  expresses  rooted  and  ascendant  strength  like  that 
of  foliage. 

There  are  certaLa  very  interesting  exceptions  to  the  rule  (we 
shall  see  a  curious  one  presently)  ;  and  in  the  carrying  out  of 
the  rule  itself,  we  may  see  constant  licenses  taken  by  the  great 
designers,  and  momentary  violations  of  it,  like  those  above 
spoken  of,  respecting  other  ornamental  laws — violations  which 
are  for  our  refreshment,  and  for  increase  of  delight  in  the 
general  observance  ;  and  this  is  one  of  the  peculiar  beauties 
of  the  cornice  g,  which,  rooting  itself  in  strong  central  clus- 
ters, suffers  some  of  its  leaves  to  fall  languidly  aside,  as  the 
drooping  outer  leaves  of  a  natural  cluster  do  so  often  ;  but  at 
the  very  instant  that  it  does  this,  in  order  that  it  may  not 

*  The  word  banded  is  used  by  Professor  Willis  in  a  different  sensw ; 
which  I  would  respect,  by  applying  it  in  his  sense  always  to  the  Impost, 
and  in  mine  to  the  capital  itself.  (This  note  is  not  for  the  genera) 
Nader,  who  need  not  trouble  himself  about  the  matter.) 


THE  CORNICE  AND  CAPITAL.  307 

iose  any  of  its  expression  of  strength,  a  fruit-stalk  is  thrown 
up  above  the  languid  leaves,  absolutely  vertical,  as  much  stiffer 
and  stronger  than  the  rest  of  the  plant  as  the  falling  leaves 
are  weaker.  Cover  this  with  your  finger,  and  the  cornice  falls 
to  pieces,  like  a  bouquet  which  has  been  untied. 

§  xvr.  There  are  some  instances  in  which,  though  the  real 
arrangement  is  that  of  a  running  stem,  throwing  off  leaves  up 
and  down,  the  positions  of  the  leaves  give  nearly  as  much 
elasticity  and  organisation  to  the  cornice,  as  if  they  had  been 
rightly  rooted ;  and  others,  like  6,  where  the  reversed  portion 
of  the  ornament  is  lost  in  the  shade,  and  the  general  expres- 
sion of  strength  is  got  by  the  lower  member.  This  cornice 
will,  nevertheless,  be  felt  at  once  to  be  inferior  to  the  rest ; 
and  though  we  may  often  be  called  upon  to  admire  designs 
of  these  kinds,  which  would  have  been  exquisite  if  not  thus 
misplaced,  the  reader  will  find  that  they  are  both  of  rare  oc- 
currence, and  significative  of  declining  style ;  while  the  greater 
mass  of  the  banded  capitals  are  heavy  and  valueless,  mere  ag- 
gregations of  confused  sculpture,  swathed  round  the  extremity 
of  the  shaft,  as  if  she  had  dipped  it  into  a  mass  of  melted  or- 
nament, as  the  glass-blower  does  his  blow-pipe  into  the  metal, 
and  brought  up  a  quantity  adhering  glutinously  to  its  ex- 
tremity. We  have  many  capitals  of  this  kind  in  England  : 
some  of  the  worst  and  heaviest  in  the  choir  of  York.  The 
later  capitals  of  the  Italian  Gothic  have  the  same  kind  of  ef- 
fect, but  owing  to  another  cause  :  for  their  structure  is  quite 
pure,  and  based  on  the  Corinthian  type :  and  it  is  the  branch- 
ing form  of  the  heads  of  the  leaves  which  destroys  the  effect 
of  their  organisation.  On  the  other  hand,  some  of  the  Italian 
cornices  which  are  actually  composed  by  running  tendrils, 
throwing  off  leaves  into  oval  interstices,  are  so  massive  in  their 
treatment,  and  so  marked  and  firm  in  their  vertical  and  arched 
lines,  that  they  are  nearly  as  suggestive  of  support  as  if  they 
had  been  arranged  on  the  rooted  system.  A  cornice  of  this 
kind  is  used  in  St.  Michele  of  Lucca  (Plate  VI.  in  the  "  Seven 
Lamps,"  and  XXL  here),  and  with  exquisite  propriety ;  for 
that  cornice  is  at  once  a  crown  to  the  story  beneath  it  and  f 
foundation  to  that  which  is  above  it,  and  therefore  unites  tin 


>08  THE  STONB8  OP  VENICE. 

strength  and  elasticity  of  the  lines  proper  to  the  cornice  witt 
the  submission  and  prostration  of  those  proper  to  the  founda- 
tion. 

§  xvn.  This,  then,  is  the  first  point  needing  general  notice 
in  the  designs  in  Plate  XVI  The  second  is  the  difference 
between  the  freedom  of  the  Northern  and  the  sophistication 
of  the  classical  cornices,  in  connection  with  what  has  been 
advanced  in  Appendix  8.  The  cornices,  a,  d,  and  b,  are  of 
the  same  date,  but  they  shorv  a  singular  difference  in  the 
workman's  temper :  that  at  b  is  a  single  copy  of  a  classical 
mosaic  ;  and  many  carved  cornices  occur,  associated  with  it, 
which  are,  in  like  manner,  mere  copies  of  the  Greek  and 
Roman  egg  and  arrow  mouldings.  But  the  cornices  a  and  d 
are  copies  of  nothing  of  the  kind  :  the  idea  of  them  has  in- 
deed been  taken  from  the  Greek  honeysuckle  ornament,  but 
the  chiselling  of  them  is  in  no  wise  either  Greek,  or  Byzan- 
tine, in  temper.  The  Byzantines  were  languid  copyists  :  this 
work  is  as  energetic  as  ita  original ;  energetic,  not  in  the 
quantity  of  work,  but  in  the  spirit  of  it :  an  indolent  man, 
forced  into  toil,  may  cover  large  spaces  with  evidence  of  hia 
feeble  action,  or  accumulate  his  dulness  into  rich  aggregation 
of  trouble,  but  it  is  gathered  weariness  still  The  man  who 
cut  those  two  uppermost  cornices  had  no  time  to  spare  :  did 
as  much  cornice  as  he  could  in  half  an  hour  ;  but  would  not 
endure  the  slightest  trace  of  error  in  a  curve,  or  of  bluntness 
in  an  edge.  His  work  is  absolutely  unreprovable  ;  keen,  and 
true,  as  Nature's  own ;  his  entire  force  is  in  it,  and  fixed  on 
seeing  that  every  line  of  it  shall  be  sharp  and  right :  the 
faithful  energy  is  in  him :  we  shall  see  something  come  of 
that  cornice  :  The  fellow  who  inlaid  the  other  (6),  will  stay 
where  he  is  for  ever  ;  and  when  he  has  inlaid  one  leaf  up, 
will  inlay  another  down, — and  so  undulate  up  and  down  to 
all  eternity  :  but  the  man  of  a  and  d  will  cut  his  way  forward, 
or  there  is  no  truth  in  handicrafts,  nor  stubbornness  in  stone. 

§  XVHL  But  there  is  something  else  noticeable  in  those  two 
cornices,  besides  the  energy  of  them :  as  opposed  either  to  6, 
or  the  Greek  honeysuckle  or  egg  patterns,  they  are  natural 
designs.  The  Greek  egg  and  arrow  cornice  i»  a  nonsense 


THE  CORNICE  AND   CAPITAL.  80* 

cornice,  very  noble  in  its  lines,  but  utterly  absurd  in  mean- 
ing. Arrows  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  eggs  (at  least  since 
Leda's  time),  neither  are  tLe  so-called  arrows  like  arrows,  nor 
the  eggs  like  eggs,  nor  the  honeysuckles  like  honeysuckles  ; 
they  are  all  conventionalised  into  a  monotonous  successiveness 
of  nothing, — pleasant  to  the  eye,  useless  to  the  thought  But 
those  Christian  cornices  are,  as  far  as  may  be,  suggestive  ; 
there  is  not  the  tenth  of  the  work  in  them  that  there  is  in  the 
Greek  arrows,  but,  as  far  as  that  work  will  go,  it  has  consistent 
intention  ;  with  the  fewest  possible  incisions,  and  those  of  the 
easiest  shape,  they  suggest  the  true  image,  of  clusters  of 
leaves,  each  leaf  with  its  central  depression  from  root  to 
point,  and  that  distinctly  visible  at  almost  any  distance  from 
the  eye,  and  in  almost  any  light. 

§  xix.  Here,  then,  are  two  great  new  elements  visible , 
energy  and  naturalism  : — Life,  with  submission  to  the  laws  of 
God,  and  love  of  his  works  ;  this  is  Christianity,  dealing  with 
her  classical  models.  Now  look  back  to  what  1  said  in  Chap. 
L  §  xx.  of  this  dealing  of  hers,  and  invention  of  the  new  Doric 
line  ;  then  to  what  is  above  stated  (§  vm.)  respecting  that  new 
Doric,  and  the  boughs  of  trees ;  and  now  to  the  evidence  in 
the  cutting  of  the  leaves  on  the  same  Doric  section,  and  gee 
how  the  whole  is  beginning  to  come  together. 

§  xx.  We  said  that  something  would  come  of  these  two 
cornices,  a  and  d.  In  e  and  f  we  see  that  something  has  come 
of  them :  e  is  also  from  St.  Mark's,  and  one  of  the  earliest 
examples  in  Venice  of  the  transition  from  the  Byzantine  to 
the  Gothic  cornice.  It  is  already  singularly  developed  ;  flow- 
ers have  been  added  between  the  clusters  of  leaves,  and  the 
leaves  themselves  curled  over  :  and  observe  the  well-directed 
thought  of  the  sculptor  in  this  curling  ; — the  old  incisions  are 
retained  below,  and  their  excessive  rigidity  is  one  of  the 
proofs  of  the  earliness  of  the  cornice  ;  but  those  incisions  now 
stand  for  the  under  surface  of  the  leaf ;  and  behold,  when  it 
turns  over,  on  the  top  of  it  you  see  true  ribs.  Look  at  the 
upper  and  under  surface  of  a  cabbage-leaf,  and  see  what  quick 
steps  we  are  making. 

§  XXL  The  fifth  example  (/)  was  cut  in  1347 ;  it  i»  from 


S10  THE  8TONE8  OF   VENIQB. 

the  tomb  of  Marco  Giustiniani,  in  the  church  of  St.  John  anfl 
Paul,  and  it  exhibits  the  character  of  the  central  Venetian 
Gothic  fully  developed.  The  lines  are  all  now  soft  and  undu- 
latory,  though  elastic ;  the  sharp  incisions  have  become  deeply- 
gathered  folds  ;  the  hollow  of  the  leaf  is  expressed  completely 
beneath,  and  its  edges  are  touched  with  light,  and  incised  into 
several  lobes,  and  their  ribs  delicately  drawn  above.  (The 
flower  between  is  only  accidentally  absent ;  it  occurs  in  most 
cornices  of  the  time.) 

But  in  both  these  cornices  the  reader  will  notice  that  while 
the  naturalism  of  the  sculpture  is  steadily  on  the  increase,  the 
classical  formalism  is  still  retained.  The  leaves  are  accurately 
numbered,  and  sternly  set  in  their  places  ;  they  are  leaves  in 
office,  and  dare  not  stir  nor  wave.  They  have  the  shapes  of 
leaves,  but  not  the  functions,  "having  the  form  of  knowledge, 
but  denying  the  power  thereof."  What  is  the  meaning  of 
this?; 

§  xxn.  Look  back  to  paragraph  xxxm.  of  the  first  chapter, 
and  you  will  see  the  meaning  of  it.  These  cornices  are  the 
Venetian  Ecclesiastical  Gothic  ;  the  Christian  element  strug- 
gling with  the  Formalism  of  the  Papacy, — the  Papacy  being 
entirely  heathen  in  all  its  principles.  That  officialism  of  the 
leaves  and  their  ribs  means  Apostolic  succession,  and  I  don't 
know  how  much  more,  and  is  already  preparing  for  the  transi- 
tion to  old  Heathenism  again,  and  the  Renaissance.* 

§  TTTTT,  Now  look  to  the  last  cornice  (g).   That  is  Protestant- 

*  The  Renaissance  period  being  one  of  return  to  formalism  on  the 
one  side,  of  utter  licentiousness  on  the  other,  so  that  sometimes,  as  here, 
I  have  to  declare  its  lifelessness,  at  other  times  (Chap.  XXV.,  §  xvu.) 
its  lasciviousness.  There  is,  of  course,  no  contradiction  in  this:  but 
the  reader  might  well  ask  how  I  knew  the  change  from  the  base  11  to 
the  base  12,  in  Plate  XII.,  to  be  one  from  temperance  to  luxury  ;  and 
from  the  cornice /to  the  cornice  g,  in  Plate  XVI.,  to  be  one  from  form- 
alism to  vitality.  I  know  it,  both  by  certain  internal  evidences,  on 
which  I  shall  have  to  dwell  at  length  hereafter,  and  by  the  context  of 
the  works  of  the  time.  But  {he  outward  signs  might  in  both  ornament? 
be  the  same,  distinguishable  only  as  signs  of  opposite  tendencies  by  the 
event  of  both.  The  b'ush  of  shame  caiuiot  always  be  told  from  the 
blush  of  indignation. 


THE  CORNICE  AND   CAPITAL.  311 

Ism,-- -a  slight  touch  of  Dissent,  hardly  amounting  to  schism, 
in  those  falling  leaves,  but  true  life  in  the  whole  of  it.  The 
forms  all  broken  through,  and  sent  heaven  knows  where,  but 
the  root  held  fast ;  and  the  strong  sap  in  the  branches  ;  and, 
best  of  all,  good  fruit  ripening  and  opening  straight  towards 
heaven,  and  in  the  face  of  it,  even  though  some  of  the  leaves 
lie  in  the  dust. 

Now,  observe.  The  cornice  f  represents  Heathenism  and 
Papistry,  animated  by  the  mingling  of  Christianity  and  nature. 
The  good  in  it,  the  life  of  it,  the  veracity  and  liberty  of  it, 
such  as  it  has,  are  Protestantism  in  its  heart ;  the  rigidity  and 
saplessness  are  the  Romanism  of  it.  It  is  the  mind  of  Fra 
Angelico  in  the  monk's  dress, — Christianity  before  the  Refor- 
mation. The  cornice  g  has  the  Lombardic  life  element  in  its 
fulness,  with  only  some  color  and  shape  of  Ciassicalism  min- 
gled with  it — the  good  of  classicalism  ;  as  much  method  and 
Formalism  as  are  consistent  with  life,  and  fitting  for  it  -•  The 
continence  within  certain  border  lines,  the  unity  at  the  root, 
the  simplicity  of  the  great  profile, — all  these  are  the  healthy 
classical  elements  retained :  the  rest  is  reformation,  new 
strength,  and  recovered  liberty. 

§  xxrv.  There  is  one  more  point  about  it  especially  notice- 
able. The  leaves  are  thoroughly  natural  in  their  general  char- 
acter, but  they  are  of  no  particular  species  :  and  after  being 
something  like  cabbage-leaves  in  the  beginning,  one  of  them 
suddenly  becomes  an  ivy-leaf  in  the  end.  Now  I  don't  know 
what  to  say  of  this.  I  know  it,  indeed,  to  be  a  classical  char- 
acter ; — it  is  eminently  characteristic  of  Southern  work  ;  and 
markedly  distinctive  of  it  from  the  Northern  ornament,  which 
would  have  been  oak,  or  ivy,  or  apple,  but  not  anything,  nor 
two  things  in  one.  It  is,  I  repeat,  a  clearly  classical  element ; 
but  whether  a  good  or  bad  element,  I  am  not  sure  ; — whether 
it  is  the  last  trace  of  Centaurism  and  other  monstrosity  dying 
away  ;  or  whether  it  has  a  figurative  purpose,  legitimate  in 
architecture  (though  never  in  painting),  and  has  been  rightly 
retained  by  the  Christian  sculptor,  to  express  the  working  of 
that  spirit  which  grafts  one  nature  upon  another,  and  discenu 
*  law  iii  it  s  members  warring  against  the  law  of  its  mind, 


312  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

§  xxv.  These,  then,  being  the  points  most  noticeable  in  the 
spirit  both  of  the  designs  and  the  chiselling,  we  have  now  to 
return  to  the  question  proposed  in  §  xin.,  and  observe  the 
modifications  of  form  of  profile  which  resulted  from  the 
changing  contours  of  the  leafage  ;  for  up  to  §  xm.,  we  had,  as 
usual,  considered  the  possible  conditions  of  form  in  the  ab- 
stract ; — the  modes  in  which  they  have  been  derived  from 
each  other  in  actual  practice  require  to  be  followed  in  their 
turn.  How  the  Greek  Doric  or  Greek  ogee  cornices  were 
invented  is  not  easy  to  determine,  and,  fortunately,  is  little  to 
our  present  purpose  ;  for  the  mediaeval  ogee  cornices  have  an 
independent  development  of  their  own,  from  the  first  type  of 
the  concave  cornice  a  in  Plate  XV. 

§  xxvi.  That  cornice  occurs,  in  the  simplest  work,  perfectly 

pure,  but  in  finished  work  it 
•was  quickly  felt  that  there 
was  a  meagreness  in  its  junc- 
tion with  the  wall  beneath  it, 
where  it  was  set  as  here  at  a, 
Fig.  LXHL,  which  could  only 
be  conquered  by  concealing 
such  junction  in  a  bar  of 
shadow.  There  were  two  ways 
of  getting  this  bar :  one  by  a 

projecting  roll  at  the  foot  of  the  cornice  (6,  Fig.  LXTTT.),  the 
other  by  slipping  the  whole  cornice  a  little  forward  (c.  Fig. 
LXJU.).  From  these  two  methods  arise  two  groups  of  cor- 
nices and  capitals,  which  we  shall  pursue  in  succession. 

§  XXVIL  First  group.  With  the  roll  at  the  base  (6,  Fi<?. 
LXHL).  The  chain  of  its  succession  is  represented  from  1 
to  6,  in  Plate  XV. :  1  and  2  are  the  steps  already  gained,  as  in 
Fig.  LXTLI.  ;  and  in  them  the  profile  of  cornice  used  is  a  of 
Plate  XV.,  or  a  refined  condition  of  6  of  Fig.  V.,  p.  75  above 
Now,  keeping  the  same  refined  profile,  substitute  the  condition 
of  it, /of  Fig.  V.  (and  there  accounted  for),  above  the  roll 
here,  and  you  have  3,  Plate  XV.  This  superadded  abacus 
was  instantly  felt  to  be  harsh  in  its  projecting  angle  ;  but  you 
know  what  to  do  with  an  angle  when  it  is  harsh.  Use  you* 


THE  CORNICE  AND   CAPITAL.  313 

simplest  chamfer  on  it  (a  or  6,  Fig.  LTTT.,  page  261,  above), 
but  on  the  visible  side  only,  and  you  have  fig.  4,  Plate  XV. 
(the  top  stone  being  made  deeper  that  you  may  have  room  to 
chamfer  it).  Now  this  fig.  4  is  the  profile  of  Lombardic  and 
Venetian  early  capitals  and  cornices,  by  tens  of  thousands  ; 
and  it  continues  into  the  late  Venetian  Gothic,  with  this  only 
difference,  that  as  time  advances,  the  vertical  line  at  the  top 
of  the  original  cornice  begins  to  slope  outwards,  and  through 
a  series  of  years  rises  like  the  hazel  wand  in  the  hand  of  a 
diviner  : — but  how  slowly  !  a  stone  dial  which  marches  but  45 
degrees  in  three  centuries,  and  through  the  intermediate  con- 
dition 5  arrives  at  6,  and  so  stays. 

In  tracing  this  chain  I  have  kept  all  the  profiles  of  the  same 
height  in  order  to  make  the  comparison  more  easy ;  the  depth 
chosen  is  about  intermediate  between  that  which  is  customary 
in  cornices  on  the  one  hand,  which  are  often  a  little  shorter, 
and  capitals  on  the  other,  which  are  often  a  little  deeper.* 
And  it  is  to  be  noted  that  the  profiles  5  and  6  establish  them- 
selves in  capitals  chiefly,  while  4  is  retained  in  cornices  to  the 
latest  times. 

§  xxvin.  Second  group  (c,  Fig.  LXTTT.).  If  the  lower  angle, 
which  was  quickly  felt  to  be  hard,  be  rounded  off,  we  have 
the  form  a,  Fig.  LXIV.  The  front  of  the  curved  line  is  then 
decorated,  as  we  have  seen  ;  and  the  termination  of  the  deco- 
rated surface  marked  by  an  incision,  as  in  an  ordinary  cham- 
fer, as  at  b  here.  This  I  believe  to  have  been  the  simple  ori- 

*  The  reader  must  always  remember  that  a  cornice,  in  becoming  a 
capital,  must,  if  not  originally  bold  and  deep,  have  depth  added  to  ita 
profile,  in  order  to  reach  the  just  proportion  of  the  lower  member  of  the 
shaft  head  ;  and  that  therefore  the  small  Greek  egg  cornices  are  utterly 
incapable  of  becoming  capitals  till  they  have  totally  changed  their  form 
and  depth  The  Renaissance  architects,  who  never  obtained  hold  of  a 
right  principle  but  they  made  it  worse  than  a  wrong  one  by  misapplica- 
tion, caught  the  idea  of  turning  the  cornice  into  a  capital,  but  did  not 
comprehend  the  necessity  of  the  accompanying  change  of  depth.  Hence 
we  have  pilaster  heads  formed  of  small  egg  cornices,  and  that  meanest 
of  all  mean  heads  of  shafts,  the  coarse  Roman  Doric  profile  chopped 
into  a  small  egg  and  arrow  moulding,  both  which  may  be  seen  disfigur 
lag  hali  the  buildings  in  London. 


311  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

gin  of  most  of  the  Venetian  ogee  cornices  ;  but  they  are  farthel 
complicated  by  the  curves  given  to  the  leafage  which  flowa 
over  them.  In  the  ordinary  Greek  cornices,  and  in  a  and  d 
of  Plate  XVL,  the  decoration  is  incised  from  the  outside  pro- 
file, without  any  suggestion  of  an  interior  surface  of  a  differ- 
ent contour.  But  in  the  leaf  cornices  which  follow,  the 
decoration  is  represented  as  overlaid  on  one  of  the  earl} 
profiles,  and  has  another  outside  contour  of  its  own  ;  which 
is,  indeed,  the  true  profile  of  the  cornice,  but  beneath  which, 
more  or  less,  the  simpler  profile  is  seen  or  suggested,  which 
terminates  all  the  incisions  of  the  chiseL  This  under  pro- 
file will  often  be  found  to  be  some  condition  of  the  type  a  or 
6,  Fig.  LXIV.  ;  and  the  leaf  profile  to  be  another  ogee  with 
its  fullest  curve  up  instead  of  down,  lapping  over  the  cornice 

I edge  above,  so  that  the  entire  pro- 

^  k  file  might  be  considered  as  made 

\  \  up  of  two  ogee   curves  laid,  like 

1  \  packed    herrings,    head    to    tail. 

V^_      ^"^^        Figures  8  and  9  of  Plate  XV.  ex- 

«.„,''  3  ^^r  ernplify  this   arrangement.      Fig. 

FIG  T.TTV  7  is  a  heavier  contour,    doubtless 

composed  in   the    same   manner, 

but  of  which  I  had  not  marked  the  innermost  profile,  and 
which  I  have  given  here  only  to  complete  the  series 
which,  from  7  to  12  inclusive,  exemplifies  the  gradual  restric- 
tion of  the  leaf  outline,  from  its  boldest  projection  in  the 
cornice  to  its  most  modest  service  in  the  capital.  This  change, 
however,  is  not  one  which  indicates  difference  of  age,  but 
merely  of  office  and  position  :  the  cornice  7  is  from  the 
tomb  of  the  Doge  Andrea  Dandolo  (1350)  in  SL  Mark's,  8 
from  a  canopy  over  a  door  of  about  the  same  period,  9  from 
the  tomb  of  the  Dogaressa  Agnese  Venier  (1411),  10  from  that 
of  Pietro  Cornaro  (1361),*  and  11  from  that  of  Andrea  Horo- 
sini  (1347),  all  in  the  church  of  San  Giov.  and  Paola,  all  there 
being  cornice  profiles  ;  and,  finally,  12  from  a  capital  of  the 
Ducal  Palace,  of  fourteenth  century  work. 

*  I  have  taken  these  dates  roughly  from  Selvatioo  ;  their  auaolnto  M 
turaoy  to  witliiu  a  /ear  or  two,  is  here  of  no  imporUno*. 


THE  CORNICE  AND    CAPITAL,  315 

§  zxix.  Now  the  reader  \vill  doubtless  notice  that  in  th« 
three  examples,  10  to  12,  the  leaf  has  a  different  contour  from 
that  of  7,  8,  or  9.  This  difference  is  peculiarly  significant.  I 
have  always  desired  that  the  reader  should  theoretically  con 
sider  the  capital  as  a  concentration  of  the  cornice  ;  but  in 
practice  it  often  happens  that  the  cornice  is,  on  the  contrary, 
•  an  unrolled  capital ;  and  one  of  the  richest  early  forms  of  the 
Byzantine  cornice  (not  given  in  Plate  XV.,  because  its  sepa- 
rate character  and  importance  require  examination  apart)  is 
nothing  more  than  an  unrolled  continuation  of  the  lower  range 
of  acanthus  leaves  on  the  Corinthian  capital  From  this  cor- 
nice others  appear  to  have  been  derived,  like  e  in  Plate  XVL, 
in  which  the  acanthus  outline  has  become  confused  with  that 
of  the  honeysuckle,  and  the  rosette  of  the  centre  of  the  Co- 
rinthian capital  introduced  between  them  ;  and  thus  their 
forms  approach  more  and  more  to  those  derived  from  the  cor- 
nice itself.  Now  if  the  leaf  has  the  contour  of  10,  11,  or  12, 
Plate  XV.,  the  profile  is  either  actually  of  a  capital,  or  of  a 
cornice  derived  from  a  capital ;  while,  if  the  leaf  have  the  con- 
tour of  7  or  8,  the  profile  is  either  actually  of  a  cornice  or  of 
a  capital  derived  from  a  cornice.  Where  the  Byzantines  use 
the  acanthus,  the  Lombards  use  the  Persepolitan  water-leaf ; 
but  the  connection  of  the  cornices  and  capitals  is  exactly  the 
same. 

§  xxx.  Thus  far,  however,  we  have  considered  the  charac- 
ters of  profile  which  are  common  to  the  cornice  and  capital 
both.  We  have  now  to  note  what  farther  decorative  features 
or  peculiarities  belong  to  the  capital  itself,  or  result  from  the 
theoretical  gathering  of  the  one  into  the  other. 

Look  back  to  Fig.  XXII.,  p.  117.  The  five  types  there 
given,  represented  the  five  different  methods  of  concentration 
of  the  root  of  cornices,  a  of  Fig.  V.  Now,  as  many  profiles 
of  cornices  as  were  developed  in  Plate  XV.  from  this  cornice 
root,  there  represented  by  the  dotted  slope,  so  many  may  be 
applied  to  each  of  the  five  types  in  Fig.  XXTT., — applied  sim- 
ply in  o  and  b,  but  with  farther  modifications,  necessitated  by 
their  truncations  or  spurs,  iu  c,  d,  and  e. 

Then,  these  cornice  profiles  having  been  so  applied  in  such 


316  TEE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

length  and  slope  as  is  proper  for  capitals,  the  farther  condition 
comes  into  effect  described  in  Chapter  IX.  §  xxiv.,  and  any 
one  of  the  cornices  in  Plate  XV.  may  become  the  abacus  of  a 
capital  formed  out  of  any  other,  or  out  of  itself.  The  infinity 
of  forms  thus  resultant  cannot,  as  may  well  be  supposed,  be 
exhibited  or  catalogued  in  the  space  at  present  permitted  to 
us :  but  the  reader,  once  master  of  the  principle,  will  easily  be 
able  to  investigate  for  himself  the  syntax  of  all  examples  that 
may  occur  to  him,  and  I  shall  only  here,  as  a  kind  of  exercise, 
put  before  him  a  few  of  those  which  he  will  meet  with  most 
frequently  in  his  Venetian  inquiries,  or  which  illustrate  points, 
not  hitherto  touched  upon,  in  the  disposition  of  the  abacus. 

§  xxxi.  In  Plate  XVEL  the  capital  at  the  top,  on  the  left 
hand,  is  the  rudest  possible  gathering  of  the  plain  Christian 
Doric  cornice,  d  of  Plate  XV.  The  shaft  is  octagonal,  and 
the  capital  is  not  cut  to  fit  it,  but  is  square  at  the  base  ;  and 
the  curve  of  its  profile  projects  on  two  of  its  sides  more  than 
on  the  other  two,  so  as  to  make  the  abacus  oblong,  in  order  f  o 
carry  an  oblong  mass  of  brickwork,  dividing  one  of  the  upper 
lights  of  a  Lombard  campanile  at  Milan.  The  awkward 
stretching  of  the  brickwork,  to  do  what  the  capital  ought  to 
have  done,  is  very  remarkable.  There  is  here  no  second  su- 
perimposed abacus. 

§  xxxn.  The  figure  on  the  right  hand,  at  the  top,  shows  the 
simple  but  perfect  fulfilment  of  all  the  requirements  in  which 
the  first  example  fails.  The  mass  of  brickwork  to  be  carried 
is  exactly  the  same  in  size  and  shape  ;  but  instead  of  being 
trusted  to  a  single  shaft,  it  has  two  of  smaller  area  (compare 
Chap.  YILL,  §  xin.),  and  all  the  expansion  necessary  is  now 
gracefully  attained  by  their  united  capitals,  hewn  out  of  one 
stone.  Take  the  section  of  these  capitals  through  their  angle, 
and  nothing  can  be  simpler  or  purer  ;  it  is  composed  of  2,  in 
Plate  XV.,  used  for  the  capital  itself,  with  c  of  Fig.  LXHL 
used  for  the  abacus ;  the  reader  could  hardly  have  a  neater 
little  bit  of  syntax  for  a  first  lesson.  If  the  section  be  taken 
through  the  side  of  the  bell,  the  capital  profile  is  the  root  of 
cornices,  a  of  Fig.  V.,  with  the  added  roll.  This  capital  U 
somewhat  remarkable  in  having  its  sides  perfectly  straight 


PLATE  XVII. —CAPITALS.     CONCAVE  GROUP. 


THE  OORNIVE  AND  CAPITAL. 


317 


some  slight  curvature  being  usual  on  so  bold  a  scale  ;  but  it  :m 
all  the  better  as  a  first  example,  the  method  of  reduction  being 
of  order  d,  in  Fig.  XXII.,  p.  117,  and  with  a  concave  cut,  as 
in  Fig.  XXI.,  p.  116.  These  two  capitals  are  from  the  cloister 
of  the  duomo  of  Verona. 

§  xxxm.  The  lowermost  figure  in  Plate  XVIL  represents 
an  exquisitely  finished  example  of  the  same  type,  from  St. 
Zeno  of  Verona.  Above,  at  2,  in  Plate  II.,  the  plan  of  the 
shafts  was  given,  but  I  inadvertently  reversed  their  position  • 
in  comparing  that  plan  with  Plate  XVIL,  Plate  IL  must  be 
held  upside  down.  The  capitals,  with  the  band  connecting 
them,  are  all  cut  out  of  one  block  ;  their  profile  is  an  adapta- 
tion of  4  of  Plate  XV.,  with  a  plain  headstone  superimposed. 
This  method  of  reduction  is  that  of  order  d  in  Fig.  XXJL. 


but  the  peculiarity  of  treatment  of  their  truncation  is  high)  v 
interesting.  Fig.  LXV.  represents  the  plans  of  the  capitals 
at  the  base,  the  shaded  parts  being  the  bells  :  the  open  line, 
the  roll  with  its  connecting  band.  The  bell  of  the  one,  it  wil> 
be  seen,  is  the  exact  reverse  of  that  of  the  other :  the  angle 
truncations  are,  in  both,  curved  horizontally  as  well  as  up- 
rightly ;  but  their  curve  is  convex  in  the  one,  and  in  the  other 
concave.  Plate  XVIL  will  show  the  effect  of  both,  with  the 
farther  incisions,  to  the  same  depth,  on  the  flank  of  the  one 
with  the  concaxre  truncation,  which  joiu  with  the  rest  of  its 


THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

singularly  bold  and  keen  execution  in  giving  the  impression 
of  its  rather  having  been  cloven  into  its  form  by  the  sweeps  of 
a  sword,  than  by  the  dull  travail  of  a  chisel  Its  workman 
was  proud  of  it,  as  well  he  might  be  :  he  has  written  his  name 
upon  its  front  (I  would  that  more  of  his  fellows  had  been  aa 
kindly  vain),  and  the  goodly  stone  proclaims  for  ever,  ADA- 
MINUS  DE  8ANCTO  GIORGIO  ME  FECIT. 

§  xxxiv.  The  reader  will  easily  understand  that  the  grace- 
fulness of  this  kind  of  truncation,  as  he  sees  it  in  Plate  XVIL, 
soon  suggested  the  idea  of  reducing  it  to  a  vegetable  outline, 
and  laying  four  healing  leaves,  as  it  were,  upon  the  wounds 
which  the  sword  had  made.  These  four  leaves,  on  the  trun- 
cations of  the  capital,  correspond  to  the  four  leaves  which  we 
saw,  in  like  manner,  extend  themselves  over  the  spurs  of  the 
base,  and,  as  they  increase  in  delicacy  of  execution,  form  one 
of  the  most  lovely  groups  of  capitals  which  the  Gothic  work- 
men ever  invented  ;  represented  by  two  perfect  types  in  the 
capitals  of  the  Piazzetta  columns  of  Venice.  But  this  pure 
group  is  an  isolated  one  ;  it  remains  in  the  first  simpli city  of  its 
conception  far  into  the  thirteenth  century,  while  around  it  rise 
up  a  crowd  of  other  forms,  imitative  of  the  old  Corinthian, 
and  in  which  other  and  younger  leaves  spring  up  in  luxuriant 
growth  among  the  primal  four.  The  varieties  of  their  group- 
ing we  shall  enumerate  hereafter :  one  general  characteristic 
of  them  all  must  be  noted  here, 

§  xxxv.  The  reader  has  been  told  repeatedly  *  that  there 
are  two,  and  only  two,  real  orders  of  capitals,  originally  repre- 
sented by  the  Corinthian  and  the  Doric  ;  and  distinguished  by 
the  concave  or  convex  contours  of  their  bells,  as  shown  by  the 
dotted  lines  at  e,  Fig.  V.,  p.  75.  And  hitherto,  respecting  the 
capital,  we  have  been  exclusively  concerned  with  the  methoda 
in  which  these  two  families  of  simple  contours  have  gathered 
themselves  together,  and  obtained  reconciliation  to  the  abacus 
above,  and  the  shaft  below.  But  the  last  paragraph  introduces 
ub  to  the  surface  ornament  disposed  upon  these,  in  the  chisel- 
ling of  which  the  characters  described  above,  §  xxvxn.,  which 

*  Chap.  I.  §  xix.,  Appendix  7 :  and  Chap.  VL  §  T. 


THE  CORNICE  AND   CAPITAL.  819 

jure  but  feebly  marked  in  the  cornice,  boldly  distinguished  and 
divide  the  families  of  the  capital. 

§  XXXVL  Whatever  the  nature  of  the  ornament  be,  it  must 
clearly  have  relief  of  some  kind,  and  must  present  projecting 
surfaces  separated  by  incisions.  But  it  is  a  very  material  ques- 
tion whether  the  contour,  hitherto  broadly  considered  as  that 
of  the  entire  bell,  shall  be  that  of  the  outside  of  the  project- 
ing and  relieved  ornaments,  or  of  the  bottoms  of  the  incisions 
•which  divide  them  ;  whether,  that  is  to  say,  we  shall  first  cut 
out  the  bell  of  our  capital  quite  smooth,  and  then  cut  farther 
into  it,  with  incisions,  which  shall  leave  ornamental  forms  in 
relief,  or  whether,  in  originally  cutting  the  contour  of  the  bell, 
we  shall  leave  projecting  bits  of  stone,  which  -we  may  after- 
wards work  into  the  relieved  ornament. 

§  xxxvu.  Now,  look  back  to  Fig.  V.,  p.  75.  Clearly,  if  to 
ornament  the  already  hollowed  profile,  b,  we  cut  deep  incisions 
into  it,  we  shall  so  far  weaken  it  at  the  top,  that  it  will  nearly 
lose  all  its  supporting  power.  Clearly,  also,  if  to  ornament 
the  already  bulging  profile  c  we  were  to  leave  projecting  pieces 
of  stone  outside  of  it,  we  should  nearly  destroy  all  its  relation 
to  the  original  sloping  line  X,  and  produce  an  unseemly  and 
ponderous  mass,  hardly  recognizable  as  a  cornice  profile.  It  is 
evident,  on  the  other  hand,  that  we  can  afford  to  cut  into  this 
profile  without  fear  of  destroying  its  strength,  and  that  we  can 
afford  to  leave  projections  outside  of  the  other,  without  fear  of 
destroying  its  lightness.  Such  is,  accordingly,  the  natural  dis- 
position of  the  sculpture,  and  the  two  great  families  of  capitals 
are  therefore  distinguished,  not  merely  by  their  concave  and 
convex  contours,  but  by  the  ornamentation  being  left  outside 
the  bell  of  the  one,  and  cut  into  the  bell  of  the  other ;  so  that, 
in  either  case,  the  ornamental  portions  will  fall  between  the 
dotted  lines  at  e,  Fig.  V.,  and  the  pointed  oval,  or  vesica  piscis, 
which  is  traced  by  them,  may  be  called  the  Limit  of  ornamen- 
tation. 

§  xxxvm.  Several  distinctions  in  the  quantity  and  style  of 
the  ornament  must  instantly  follow  from  this  great  distinction 
in  its  position.  First,  in  its  quantity.  For,  observe :  since  in 
the  Doric  profile,  c  of  Fig.  V.,  the  contour  itself  is  to  be  com- 


320  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

posed  of  the  surface  of  the  ornamentation,  this  ornamentation 
must  be  close  and  united  enough  to  form,  or  at  least  suggest,  a 
continuous  surface ;  it  must,  therefore,  be  rich  in  quantity  and 
close  in  aggregation  ;  otherwise  it  will  destroy  the  massy  char- 
acter of  the  profile  it  adorns,  and  approximate  it  to  its  opposite, 
the  concave.  On  the  other  hand,  the  ornament  left  projecting 
from  the  concave,  must  be  sparing  enough,  and  dispersed 
enough,  to  allow  the  concave  bell  to  be  clearly  seen  beneath  it ; 
otherwise  it  will  choke  up  the  concave  profile,  and  approximate 
it  to  its  opposite,  the  convex. 

§  xxxix.  And,  secondly,  in  its  style.  For,  clearly,  as  the 
sculptor  of  the  concave  profile  must  leave  masses  of  rough 
stone  prepared  for  his  outer  ornament,  and  cannot  finish  them 
at  once,  but  must  complete  the  cutting  of  the  smooth  bell 
beneath  first,  and  then  return  to  the  projecting  masses  (for  if 
he  were  to  finish  these  latter  first,  they  would  assuredly,  if 
delicate  or  sharp,  be  broken  as  he  worked  on  ;  since,  I  say,  he 
must  work  in  this  foreseeing  and  predetermined  method,  he  ia 
sure  to  reduce  the  system  of  his  ornaments  to  some  definite 
symmetrical  order  before  he  begins) ;  and  the  habit  of  conceiv- 
ing beforehand  all  that  he  has  to  do,  will  probably  render  him 
not  only  more  orderly  in  its  arrangement,  but  more  skilful 
and  accurate  in  its  execution,  than  if  he  could  finish  all  as  he 
worked  on.  On  the  other  hand,  the  sculptor  of  the  convex 
profile  has  its  smooth  surface  laid  before  him,  as  a  piece  of 
paper  on  which  he  can  sketch  at  his  pleasure  ;  the  incisions  he 
makes  in  it  are  like  touches  of  a  dark  pencil ;  and  he  is  at 
liberty  to  roam  over  the  surface  in  perfect  freedom,  with  light 
incisjons  or  with  deep  ;  finishing  here,  suggesting  there,  or 
perhaps  in  places  leaving  the  surface  altogether  smooth.  It  is 
ten  to  one,  therefore,  but  that,  if  he  yield  to  the  temptation, 
he  becomes  irregular  in  design,  and  rude  in  handling ;  and  we 
shall  assuredly  find  the  two  families  of  capitals  distinguished, 
the  one  by  its  symmetrical,  thoroughly  organised,  and  exqui 
sitely  executed  ornament,  the  other  by  its  rambling,  confused, 
and  rudely  chiselled  ornament :  But,  on  the  other  hand,  while 
we  shall  often  have  to  admire  the  disciplined  precision  of  the 
one,  and  as  often  to  regret  the  irregular  rudeness  of  the  oilier, 


PIRATE  XVIII. — CAPITALS.     CONVEX, 


THE  CORNICE  AND   CAPITAL.  321 

wre  shall  not  fail  to  find  balancing  qualities  in  both.  The 
severity  of  the  disciplinarian  capital  represses  the  power  of  the 
imagination ;  it  gradually  degenerates  into  Formalism  ;  and 
the  indolence  which  cannot  escape  from  its  stern  demand  of 
accurate  workmanship,  seeks  refuge  in  copyism  of  established 
forms,  and  loses  itself  at  last  in  lifeless  mechanism.  The  license 
of  the  other,  though  often  abused,  permits  full  exercise  to  the 
imagination  :  the  mind  of  the  sculptor,  unshackled  by  the 
niceties  of  chiselling,  wanders  over  its  orbed  field  in  endless 
fantasy  ;  and,  when  generous  as  well  as  powerful,  repays  the 
liberty  which  has  been  granted  to  it  with  interest,  by  develop- 
ing through  the  utmost  wildness  and  fulness  of  its  thoughts, 
an  order  as  much  more  noble  than  the  mechanical  symmetry 
of  the  opponent  school,  as  the  domain  which  it  regulates  is 
vaster. 

§  XL.  And  now  the  reader  shall  judge  whether  I  had  not 
reason  to  cast  aside  the  so-called  Five  orders  of  the  Renaissance 
architects,  with  their  volutes  and  fillets,  and  to  tell  him  that 
there  were  only  two  real  orders,  and  that  there  could  never  be 
more.*  For  we  now  find  that  these  two  great  and  real  order? 
are  representative  of  the  two  great  influences  which  must  for 
ever  divide  the  heart  of  man  :  the  one  of  Lawful  Discipline, 
with  its  perfection  and  order,  but  its  danger  of  degeneracy 
into  Formalism  ;  the  other  of  Lawful  Freedom,  with  its  vigor 
and  variety,  but  its  danger  of  degeneracy  into  Licentiousness. 

§  XLI.  I  shall  not  attempt  to  give  any  illustrations  here  of 
the  most  elaborate  developments  of  either  order ;  they  will  be 
better  given  on  a  larger  scale  :  but  the  examples  in  Plate 
XVIL  and  XVIEL  represent  the  two  methods  of  ornament  in 
their  earliest  appliance.  The  two  lower  capitals  in  Plate 
XVIL  are  a  pure  type  of  the  concave  school ;  the  two  in  the 
centre  of  Plate  XVIEI.,  of  the  convex.  At  the  top  of  Plate 
XVIEL  are  two  Lombardic  capitals  ;  that  on  the  left  from  Sta. 
Sofia  at  Padua,  that  on  the  right  from  the  cortile  of  St.  Am- 
brogio  at  Milan.  They  both  have  the  concave  angle  truncation ; 
but  being  of  date  prior  to  the  time  when  the  idea  of  the  con- 
cave bell  was  developed,  they  are  otherwise  left  square,  and 

*  Chap.  I.,  §  xix. 
Stones  of  Venice— Vol.  L— Itt 


322 


THl    STONES  OF   VENICE. 


decorated  with  the  surface  ornament  characteristic  of  the  con. 
vex  school.  The  relation  of  the  designs  to  each  other  is  in- 
teresting ;  the  cross  being  prominent  in  the  centre  of  each,  but 
more  richly  relieved  in  that  from  St.  Ambrogio.  The  two 
beneath  are  from  the  southern  portico  of  St.  Mark's  ;  the 
shafts  having  been  of  different  lengths,  and  neither,  in  all 
probability,  originally  intended  for  their  present  place,  they 
have  double  abaci,  of  which  the  uppermost  is  the  cornice  run- 
ning round  the  whole  fa9ade.  The  zigzagged  capital  is  highly 
curious,  and  in  its  place  very  effective  and  beautiful ;  although 
one  of  the  exceptions  which  it  was  above  noticed  that  we 
should  sometimes  find  to  the  law  stated  in  §  xv.  above. 

§  XLH.  The  lower  capital,  which  is  also  of  the  true  convex 
school,  exhibits  one  of  the  conditions  of  the  spurred  type,  e 
of  Fig.  XXTL,  respecting  which  one  or  two  points  must  be 
noticed. 

If  we  were  to  take  up  the  plan  of  the  simple  spur,  repre- 
sented at  e  in  Fig.  XXIL,  p. 
117,  and  treat  it,  with  the  sal  via 
leaf,  as  we  did  the  spur  of  the 
base,  we  should  have  for  the 
head  of  our  capital  a  plan  like 
Fig.  LXVI.,  which  is  actually 
that  of  one  of  the  capitals  of  the 
Fondaco  de'  Turchi  at  Venice ; 
with  this  only  difference,  that 
the  intermediate  curves  between 
the  spurs  would  have  been  cir- 
cular :  the  reason  they  are  not  so, 
here,  is  that  the  decoration,  in- 
stead of  being  confined  to  the 

spur,  is  now  spread  over  the  whole  mass,  and  contours  are 
therefore  given  to  the  intermediate  curves  which  fit  them  for 
this  ornament ;  the  inside  shaded  space  being  the  head  of  the 
shaft,  and  the  outer,  the  abacus.  The  reader  has  in  Fig. 
LXVL  a  characteristic  type  of  the  plans  of  the  spurred  capitals, 
generally  preferred  by  the  sculptors  of  the  convex  school,  but 
treated  with  infinite  variety,  the  spurs  often  being  cut  into 


Fia.  LXVL 


THE  CORNIVK  AND    CAPITAL.  323 

animal  forms,  or  the  incisions  between  them  multiplied,  for 
richer  effect ;  and  in  our  own  Norman  capital  the  type  c  of 
Fig.  XXIE.  is  variously  subdivided  by  incisions  on  its  slope, 
approximating  in  general  effect  to  many  conditions  of  the  real 
spurred  type,  e,  but  totally  differing  from  them  in  principle. 

§  XLIII.  The  treatment  of  the  spur  in  the  concave  school  is 
far  more  complicated,  being  borrowed  in  nearly  every  case 
from  the  original  Corinthian.  Its  plan  may  be  generally 
represented  by  Fig.  LX\TL  The  spur  itself  is  carved  into 


Fio.  LXVII.  FIG.  LXVIII. 


a  curling  tendril  or  concave  leaf,  which  supports  the  project- 
ing angle  of  a  four-sided  abacus,  whose  hollow  sides  fall  back 
behind  the  bell,  and  have  generally  a  rosette  or  other  orna- 
ment in  their  centres.  The  mediaeval  architects  often  put 
another  square  abacus  above  all,  as  represented  by  the  shaded 
portion  of  Fig.  LXVIL,  and  some  massy  conditions  of  this 
form,  elaborately  ornamented,  are  very  beautiful ;  but  it  is 
apt  to  become  rigid  and  effeminate,  as  assuredly  it  is  in  the 
original  Corinthian,  which  is  thoroughly  mean  and  meagre  in 
its  upper  tendrils  and  abacus. 

g  xuv.  The  lowest  capital  in  Plate  XV3H  is  from  St 
Mark's,  and  singular  in  having  double  spurs  ;  it  is  therefore 
to  be  compared  with  the  doubly  spurred  base,  also  from  St. 
Mark's,  in  Plate  XI.  In  other  respects  it  is  a  good  example 
of  the  union  of  breadth  oi  mass  with  subtlety  of  curvature, 


824:  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

which  characterises  nearly  all  the  spurred  capitals  of  the  con« 
vex  school.  Its  plan  is  given  in  Fig.  LXVUL  :  the  inner 
shaded  circle  is  the  head  of  the  shaft  ;  the  white  cross,  the 
bottom  of  the  capital,  which  expands  itself  into  the  external 
shaded  portions  at  the  top.  Each  spur,  thus  formed,  is  cut 
like  a  ship's  bow,  with  the  Doric  profile  ;  the  surfaces  so  ob 
tained  are  then  charged  with  arborescent  ornament. 

§  XLV.  I  shall  not  here  farther  exemplify  the  conditions  of 
the  treatment  of  the  spur,  because  I  am  afraid  of  confusing 
the  reader's  mind,  and  diminishing  the  distinctness  of  hia 
conception  of  the  differences  between  the  two  great  orders, 
which  it  has  been  my  principal  object  to  develope  through- 
out this  chapter.  If  all  my  readers  lived  in  London,  I  could 
at  once  fix  this  difference  in  their  minds  by  a  simple,  yet- 
somewhat  curious  illustration.  In  many  parts  of  the  west 
end  of  London,  as,  for  instance,  at  the  corners  of  Belgrave 
Square,  and  the  north  side  of  Grosvenor  Square,  the  Corin- 
thian capitals  of  newly-built  houses  are  put  into  cages  of  wire. 
The  wire  cage  is  the  exact  form  of  the  typical  capital  of  the 
convex  school ;  the  Corinthian  capital,  within,  is  a  finished 
and  highly  decorated  example  of  the  concave.  The  space  be« 
tween  the  cage  and  capital  is  the  limit  of  ornamentation. 

§  XLVI.  Those  of  my  readers,  however,  to  whom  this  illua 
tration  is  inaccessible,  must  be  content  with  the  two  profiles, 
13  and  14,  on  Plate  XV.  If  they  will  glance  along  the  line 
of  sections  from  1  to  6,  they  will  see  that  the  profile  13  is  their 
final  development,  with  a  superadded  cornice  for  its  abacus. 
It  is  taken  from  a  capital  in  a  very  important  ruin  of  a  palace, 
near  the  Rialto  of  Venice,  and  hereafter  to  be  described  ;  the 
projection,  outside  of  its  principal  curve,  is  the  profile  of  its 
superadded  leaf  ornamentation  ;  it  may  be  taken  as  one  of  the 
simplest,  yet  a  perfect  type  of  the  concave  group. 

§  XLvn.  The  profile  14  is  that  of  the  capital  of  the  main 
shaft  of  the  northern  portico  of  St.  Mark's,  the  most  finished 
example  I  ever  met  with  of  the  convex  family,  to  which,  in 
spite  of  the  central  inward  bend  of  its  profile,  it  is  marked  as 
distinctly  belonging,  by  the  bold  convex  curve  at  its  root, 
springing  from  the  shaft  in  the  line  of  the  Christian  Doric 


THE  CORN1VE  AND   CAPITAL.  325 

cornice,  and1  exactly  reversing  the  structure  of  the  other  pro 
file,  which  rises  from  the  shaft,  like  a  palm  leaf  from  its  stem. 
Farther,  in  the  profile  13,  the  innermost  line  is  that  of  the 
bell ;  but  in  the  profile  14,  the  outermost  line  is  that  of  the 
bell,  and  the  inner  line  is  the  limit  of  the  incisions  of  the 
chisel,  in  undercutting  a  reticulated  veil  of  ornament,  sur- 
rounding a  flower  like  a  lily  ;  most  ingeniously,  and,  I  hope; 
justly,  conjectured  by  the  Marchese  Selvatico  to  have  been 
intended  for  an  imitation  of  the  capitals  of  the  temple  of 
Solomon,  which  Hiram  made,  with  "  nets  of  checker  work, 
and  wreaths  of  chain  work  for  the  chapiters  that  were  on  the 
top  of  the  pillars  .  .  .  and  the  chapiters  that  were  upon  the 
top  of  the  pillars  were  of  lily  work  in  the  porch."  (1  Kings, 
vii.  17,  19.) 

§  XLVIU.  On  this  exquisite  capital  there  is  imposed  an 
abacus  of  the  profile  with  which  we  began  our  investigation 
long  ago,  the  profile  a  of  Fig.  V.  This  abacus  is  formed  by 
the  cornice  already  given,  a,  of  Plate  XVI.  :  and  therefore  we 
have,  in  this  lovely  Venetian  capital,  the  summary  of  the  re- 
sults of  our  investigation,  from  its  beginning  to  its  close  :  the 
type  of  the  first  cornice ;  the  decoration  of  it,  in  its  emer- 
gence from  the  classical  models  ;  the  gathering  into  the  capi- 
tal ;  the  superimposition  of  the  secondary  cornice,  and  the 
refinement  of  the  bell  of  the  capital  by  triple  curvature  in  the 
two  limits  of  chiselling.  I  cannot  express  the  exquisite  refine- 
ments of  the  curves  on  the  small  scale  of  Plate  XV.  ;  I  will 
give  them  more  accurately  in  a  larger  engraving  ;  but  the 
scale  on  which  they  are  here  given  will  not  prevent  the  reader 
from  perceiving,  and  let  him  note  it  thoughtfully,  that  the 
outer  curve  of  the  noble  capital  is  the  one  which  was  our  first 
example  of  associated  curves ;  that  I  have  had  no  need, 
throughout  the  whole  of  our  inquiry,  to  refer  to  any  other 
ornamental  line  than  the  three  which  I  at  first  chose,  the  sim- 
plest of  those  which  Nature  set  by  chance  before  me  ;  and 
that  this  lily,  of  the  delicate  Venetian  marble,  has  but  been 
wrought,  by  the  highest  human  art,  into  the  same  line  which 
the  clouds  disclose,  when  they  break  from  the  rough  rocks  of 
the  flank  of  the  Matterhorn. 


THE  STONES  OF    VENICE. 


CHAPTER  XXVHL 

THE   AECHIVOLT    AND    APERTURE. 

§  r.  IF  the  windows  and  doors  of  some  of  our  best  northern 
Gothic  buildings  were  built  up,  and  the  ornament  of  their 
archivolts  concealed,  there  would  often  remain  little  but  masses 
of  dead  wall  and  unsightly  buttress  ;  the  whole  vitality  of  the 
building  consisting  in  the  graceful  proportions  or  rich  mould- 
ings of  its  apertures.  It  is  not  so  in  the  south,  where,  fre- 
quently, the  aperture  is  a  mere  dark  spot  on  the  variegated 
wall ;  but  there  the  column,  with  its  horizontal  or  curved 
architrave,  assumes  an  importance  of  another  kind,  equally 
dependent  upon  the  methods  of  lintel  and  archivolt  decora- 
tion. These,  though  in  their  richness  of  minor  variety  they 
defy  all  exemplification,  may  be  very  broadly 
generalized. 

Of  the  mere  lintel,  indeed,  there  is  no  spe- 
cific decoration,  nor  can  be  ;  it  has  no  organ- 
ism to  direct  its  ornament,  and  therefore  may 
receive  any  kind  and  degree  of  ornament,  ac- 
cording to  its  position.  In  a  Greek  temple, 
it  has  meagre  horizontal  lines ;  in  a  Roman- 
esque church,  it  becomes  a  row  of  upright 
niches,  with  an  apostle  in  each  ;  and  may 
become  anything  else  at  the  architect's  will. 
But  the  arch  head  has  a  natural  organism, 
which  separates  its  ornament  into  distinct 
families,  broadly  definable. 

§  n.  In  speaking  of  the  arch-line  and  arch 
masonry,  we  considered  the  arch  to  be  cut 
straight  through  the  wall ;  so  that,  if  half 
built,  it  would  have  the  appearance  at  a, 
Fig.  LXIX.  But  in  the  chapter  on  Form 
of  Apertures,  we  found  that  the  side  of  the 
arch,  or  jamb  of  the  aperture,  might  often  require  to  be 
bevelled,  so  as  to  give  the  section  b,  Fig.  LXIX.  It  is  easily 


Pio.  LXIX. 


THE  ARCmVOLT  AND  APERTURE.  327 

•onceivable  that  when  two  ranges  of  voussoirs  were  used, 
one  over  another,  it  would  be  easier  to  leave  those  beneath, 
of  a  smaller  diameter,  than  to  bevel  them  to  accurate  junc- 
tion with  those  outside.  Whether  influenced  by  this  facility, 
or  by  decorative  instinct,  the  early  northern  builders  often 
substitute  for  the  bevel  the  third  condition,  c,  of  Fig.  LXIX.; 
so  that,  of  the  three  forms  in  that  figure,  a  belongs  principally 
to  the  south,  c  to  the  north,  and  b  indifferently  to  both. 

§  m.  If  the  arch  in  the  northern  building  be  very  deep,  its 
depth  will  probably  be  attained  by  a  succession  of  steps,  like 
that  in  c  ;  and  the  richest  results  of  northern  archivolt  deco- 
ration are  entirely  based  on  the  aggregation  of  the  ornament 
of  these  several  steps  ;  while  those  of  the  south  are  only  the 
complete  finish  and  perfection  of  the  ornament  of  one.  In 
this  ornament  of  the  single  arch,  the  points  for  general  note 
are  very  few. 

§  rv.  It  was,  in  the  first  instance,  derived  from  the  classical 
architrave,*  and  the  early  Romanesque  arches  are  nothing  but 
such  an  architrave,  bent  round.  The  horizontal  lines  of  the 
latter  become  semicircular,  but  their  importance  and  value  re- 
main exactly  the  same  ;  their  continuity  is  preserved  across  all 
the  voussoirs,  and  the  joints  and  functions  of  the  latter  are 
studiously  concealed.  As  the  builders  get  accustomed  to  the 
arch,  and  love  it  better,  they  cease  to  be  ashamed  of  its  struct- 
ure :  the  voussoirs  begin  to  show  themselves  confidently,  and 
fight  for  precedence  with  the  architrave  lines  ;  and  there  is  an 
entanglement  of  the  two  structures,  in  consequence,  like  the  cir- 
cular and  radiating  lines  of  a  cobweb,  until  at  last  the  architrave 
lines  get  worsted,  and  driven  away  outside  of  the  voussoirs  ;  be- 
ing permitted  to  stay  at  all  only  on  condition  of  their  dressing 
themselves  in  mediaeval  costume,  as  in  the  plate  opposite. 

§  v.  In  other  cases,  however,  before  the  entire  discomfiture 
of  the  architrave,  a  treaty  of  peace  is  signed  between  the  ad- 
verse parties  on  these  terms  :  That  the  architrave  shall  en- 

*  The  architrave  is  properly  the  horizontal  piece  of  stone  laid  across 
the  tops  of  the  pillars  in  Greek  buildings,  and  commonly  marked  with 
horizontal  lines,  obtained  by  slight  projections  of  its  surface,  while  it  ii 
protected  above  in  the  richer  orders,  by  a  small  cornice. 


328  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

ttrely  dismiss  its  inner  three  meagre  lines,  and  leave  the  spaeo 
of  them  to  the  voussoirs,  to  display  themselves  after  their 
manner  ;  but  that,  in  return  for  this  concession,  the  architrave 
shall  have  leave  to  expand  the  small  cornice  which  usually 
terminates  it  (the  reader  had  better  look  at  the  original  form 
in  that  of  the  Erechtheum,  in  the  middle  of  the  Elgin  rooni 
of  the  British  Museum)  into  bolder  prominence,  and  even  to 
put  brackets  under  it,  as  if  it  were  a  roof  cornice,  and  thua 
mark  with  a  bold  shadow  the  terminal  line  of  the  voussoirs. 
This  condition  is  seen  in  the  arch  from  St.  Pietro  of  Pistoja, 
Plate  XKL,  above. 

§  VL  If  the  Gothic  spirit  of  the  building  be  thoroughly  de- 
termined, and  victorious,  the  architrave  cornice  is  compelled 
to  relinquish  its  classical  form,  and  take  the  profile  of  a  Gothic 
cornice  or  dripstone  ;  while,  in  other  cases,  as  in  much  of  the 
Gothic  of  Verona,  it  is  forced  to  disappear  altogether.  But 
the  voussoirs  then  concede,  on  the  other  hand,  so  much  of 
their  dignity  as  to  receive  a  running  ornament  of  foliage  or 
animals,  like  a  classical  frieze,  and  continuous  round  the  arch. 
In  fact,  the  contest  between  the  adversaries  may  be  seen  run- 
ning through  all  the  early  architecture  of  Italy :  success  in- 
clining sometimes  to  the  one,  sometimes  to  the  other,  and 
various  kinds  of  truce  or  reconciliation  being  effected  between 
them  :  sometimes  merely  formal,  sometimes  honest  and  affec- 
tionate, but  with  no  regular  succession  in  time.  The  greatest 
victory  of  the  voussoir  is  to  annihilate  the  cornice,  and  receive 
an  ornament  of  its  own  outline,  and  entirely  limited  by  its  own 
joints :  and  yet  this  may  be  seen  in  the  very  early  apse  of  Murano, 

§  vn.  The  most  usual  condition,  however,  is  that  unity  of 
the  two  members  above  described,  §  v.,  and  which  may  be 
generally  represented  by  the  archivolt  section  a,  Fig.  LXX.  ; 
and  from  this  descend  a  family  of  Gothic  archivolts  of  the 
highest  importance.  For  the  cornice,  thus  attached  to  the 
arch,  suffers  exactly  the  same  changes  as  the  level  cornice,  or 
capital  ;  receives,  in  due  time,  its  elaborate  ogee  profile  and 
leaf  ornaments,  like  Fig.  8  or  9  of  Plate  XV.  ;  and,  when  the 
shaft  loses  its  shape,  and  is  lost  in  the  later  Gothic  jamb,  the 
archivolt  has  influence  enough  to  introduce  this  ogee  profile 


THE  ARCHIVOLT  AND  APERTURE.  32§ 

in  the  jamb  also,  through  the  banded  impost :  and  we  im- 
mediately find  ourselves  involved  in  deep  successions  of  ogee 
mouldings  in  sides  of  doors  and  windows,  which  never  would 
have  been  thought  of,  but  for  the  obstinate  resistance  of  the 
classical  architrave  to  the  attempts  of  the  voussoir  at  its  degra- 
dation or  banishment. 

§  vm.  This,  then,  will  be  the  first  great  head  under  which 
we  shall  in  future  find  it  convenient  to  arrange  a  large  num- 
ber of  archivolt  decorations.  It  is  the  distinctively  Southern 
and  Byzantine  form,  and  typically  represented  by  the  section 
a,  of  Fig.  LXX. ;  and  it  is  susceptible  of  almost  every  species 
of  surface  ornament,  respecting  which  only 
this  general  law  may  be  asserted  :  that, 
while  the  outside  or  vertical  surface  may 
properly  be  decorated,  and  yet  the  soffit  or 
under  surface  left  plain,  the  soffit  is  never 
to  be  decorated,  and  the  outer  surface  left 
plain.  Much  beautiful  sculpture  is,  in  the 
best  Byzantine  buildings,  half  lost  by  be- 
ing put  under  soffits  ;  but  the  eye  is  led 
to  discover  it,  and  even  to  demand  it,  by 
the  rich  chasing  of  the  outside  of  the  vous- 
soirs.  It  would  have  been  an  hypocrisy  to  FlQ 

carve  them  externally  only.  But  there 
is  not  the  smallest  excuse  for  carving  the  soffit,  and  not  the 
outside  ;  for,  in  that  case,  we  approach  the  building  under  the 
idea  of  its  being  perfectly  plain  ;  we  do  not  look  for  the  soffit 
decoration,  and,  of  course,  do  not  see  it :  or,  if  we  do,  it  is 
merely  to  regret  that  it  should  not  be  in  a  better  place.  In 
the  Renaissance  architects,  it  may,  perhaps,  for  once,  be  con- 
sidered a  merit,  that  they  put  their  bad  decorations  systemat» 
ically  in  the  places  where  we  should  least  expect  it,  and  can 
seldomest  see  it : — Approaching  the  Scuola  di  San  Rocco,  you 
probably  will  regret  the  extreme  plainness  and  barrenness  of 
the  window  traceries  ;  but,  if  you  will  go  very  close  to  the 
wall  beneath  the  windows,  you  may,  on  sunny  days,  discover 
a  quantity  of  panel  decorations  which  the  ingenious  architect 
has  concealed  under  the  soffits. 


*80  TBS  8TONB8  OF 

The  custom  of  decorating  the  arch  soffit  with  panelling  is  M 
Roman  application  of  the  Greek  roof  ornament,  which,  what- 
ever its  intrinsic  merit  (compare  Chap.  XXTX,  §  rv.),  may 
rationally  be  applied  to  waggon  vaults,  as  of  St.  Peter's,  and 
to  arch  soffits  under  which  one  walks.  But  the  Renaissance 
architects  had  not  wit  enough  to  reflect  that  people  usually 
do  not  walk  through  windows. 

§  ix.  So  far,  then,  of  the  Southern  archivolt :  In  Fig. 
LXIX,,  above,  it  will  be  remembered  that  c  represents  the 
simplest  form  of  the  Northern.  In  the  farther  development 
of  this,  which  we  have  next  to  consider,  the  voussoirs,  in  con- 
sequence of  their  own  negligence  or  over-confidence,  sustain  a 
total  and  irrecoverable  defeat.  That  archivolt  is  in  its  earliest 
conditions  perfectly  pure  and  undecorated, — the  simplest  and 
rudest  of  Gothic  forms.  Necessarily,  when  it  falls  on  the 
pier,  and  meets  that  of  the  opposite  arch,  the  entire  section 
of  masonry  is  in  the  shape  of  a  cross,  and  is  carried  by  the 
crosslet  shaft,  which  we  above  stated  to  be  distinctive  of 
Northern  design.  I  am  more  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  sud- 
den and  fixed  development  of  this  type  of  archivolt  than  for 
any  other  architectural  transition  with  which  I  am  acquainted. 
But  there  it  is,  pure  and  firmly  established,  as  early  as  the 
building  of  St.  Michele  of  Pavia ;  and  we  have  thenceforward 
only  to  observe  what  comes  of  it. 

§  x.  We  find  it  first,  as  I  said,  perfectly  barren ;  cornice 
and  architrave  altogether  ignored,  the  existence  of  such  things 
practically  denied,  and  a  plain,  deep-cut  recess  with  a  single 
mighty  shadow  occupying  their  place.  The  voussoirs,  think- 
ing their  great  adversary  utterly  defeated,  are  at  no  trouble 
to  show  themselves  ;  visible  enough  in  both  the  upper  and 
under  archivolts,  they  are  content  to  wait  the  time  when,  as 
might  have  been  hoped,  they  should  receive  a  new  decoration 
peculiar  to  themselves. 

§  XL  In  this  state  of  paralysis,  or  expectation,  their  flank  is 
turned  by  an  insidious  chamfer.  The  edges  of  the  two  great 
blank  archivolts  are  felt  to  be  painfully  conspicuous  ;  all  the 
four  are  at  once  beaded  or  chamfered,  as  at  b,  Fig.  LXX.  ;  a 
rich  group  of  deep  lines,  running  concentrically  with  the  arch, 


THE  ARCHIVOLT  AND  APERTURE.  331 

is  the  'result  on  the  instant,  and  the  fate  of  the  voussoirs  ia 
sealed.  They  surrender  at  once  without  a  struggle,  and  un- 
conditionally ;  the  chamfers  deepen  and  multiply  themselves, 
cover  the  soffit,  ally  themselves  with  other  forms  resulting  from 
grouped  shafts  or  traceries,  and  settle  into  the  inextricable 
richness  of  the  fully  developed  Gothic  jamb  and  arch  ;  farther 
complicated  in  the  end  by  the  addition  of  niches  to  their  re- 
cesses, as  above  described. 

§  xn.  The  voussoirs,  in  despair,  go  over  to  the  classical 
camp,  in  hope  of  receiving  some  help  or  tolerance  from  their 
former  enemies.  They  receive  it  indeed  :  but  as  traitors 
should,  to  their  own  eternal  dishonor.  They  are  sharply 
chiselled  at  the  joints,  or  rusticated,  or  cut  into  masks  and 
satyrs'  heads,  and  so  set  forth  and  pilloried  in  the  various  de- 
testable forms  of  which  the  simplest  is  given  above  in  Plate 
XTTT.  (on  the  left)  :  and  others  may  be  seen  in  nearly  every 
large  building  in  London,  more  especially  in  the  bridges  ;  and, 
as  if  in  pure  spite  at  the  treatment  they  had  received  from 
the  archivolt,  they  are  now  not  content  with  vigorously  show- 
ing their  lateral  joints,  but  shape  themselves  into  right-angled 
steps  at  their  heads,  cutting  to  pieces  their  limiting  line, 
which  otherwise  would  have  had  sympathy  with  that  of  the 
arch,  and  fitting  themselves  to  their  new  friend,  the  Renais- 
sance Ruled  Copy-book  wall.  It  had  been  better  they  had 
died  ten  times  over,  in  their  own  ancient  cause,  than  thus  pro- 
longed their  existence. 

§  xm.  We  bid  them  farewell  in  their  dishonor,  to  return 
to  our  victorious  chamfer.  It  had  not,  we  said,  obtained  so 
easy  a  conquest,  unless  by  the  help  of  certain  forms  of  the 
grouped  shaft.  The  chamfer  was  quite  enough  to  decorate 
the  archivolts,  if  there  were  no  more  than  two ;  but  if,  as 
above  noticed  in  §  in.,  the  archivolt  was  very  deep,  and  com- 
posed of  a  succession  of  such  steps,  the  multitude  of  chamfer- 
ings  were  felt  to  be  weak  and  insipid,  and  instead  of  dealing 
with  the  outside  edges  of  the  archivolts,  the  group  was  soft- 
ened by  introducing  solid  shafts  in  their  dark  inner  angles. 
This,  the  manliest  and  best  condition  of  the  early  northern 
jamb  and  archivolt,  is  represented  in  section  at  tig.  12  of  Plate 


332  TEE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

EL  ;  and  its  simplest  aspect  in  Plate  V.,  from  the  Broletto  o4 
Como, — an  interesting  example,  because  there  the  voussoirs 
being  in  the  midst  of  their  above-described  southern  contest 
with  the  architrave,  were  better  prepared  for  the  flank  at- 
tack upon  them  by  the  shaft  and  chamfer,  and  make  a  noble 
resistance,  with  the  help  of  color,  in  which  even  the  shaft  itself 
gets  slightly  worsted,  and  cut  across  in  several  places,  like 
General  Zach's  column  at  Marengo. 

§  xiv.  The  shaft,  however,  rapidly  rallies,  and  brings  up  its 
own  peculiar  decorations  to  its  aid  ;  and  the  intermediate 
archivolts  receive  running  or  panelled  ornaments,  also,  until  we 
reach  the  exquisitely  rich  conditions  of  our  own  Norman  archi- 
volts, and  of  the  parallel  Lombardic  designs,  such  as  the  en- 
trance of  the  Duomo,  and  of  San  Ferino,  at  Verona.  This 
change,  however,  occupies  little  time,  and  takes  place  princi' 
pally  in  doorways,  owing  to  the  greater  thickness  of  wall, 
and  depth  of  archivolt ;  so  that  we  find  the  rich  shafted  suc- 
cession of  ornament,  in  the  doorway  and  window  aperture, 
associated,  with  the  eai'liest  and  rudest  double  archivolt,  in 
the  nave  arches,  at  St.  Michele  of  Pavia.  The  nave  arches, 
therefore,  are  most  usually  treated  by  the  chamfer,  and  the 
voussoirs  are  there  defeated  much  sooner  than  by  the  shafted 
arrangements,  which  they  resist,  as  we  saw,  in  the  south  by 
color ;  and  even  in  the  north,  though  forced  out  of  their  own 
shape,  they  take  that  of  birds'  or  monsters'  heads,  which  for 
some  time  peck  and  pinch  the  rolls  of  the  archivolt  to  their 
hearts'  content;  while  the  Norman  zigzag  ornament  allies  itself 
with  them,  each  zigzag  often  restraining  itself  amicably  be- 
tween the  joints  of  each  voussoir  in  the  ruder  work,  and  even  in 
the  highly  finished  arches,  distinctly  presenting  a  concentric 
or  sunlike  arrangement,  of  lines  ;  so  much  so,  as  to  prompt  the 
conjecture,  above  stated,  Chap.  XX.  §  xxvi.,  that  all  such 
ornaments  were  intended  to  be  typical  of  light  issuing  from 
the  orb  of  the  arch.  I  doubt  the  intention,  but  acknowledge 
the  resemblance  ;  which  perhaps  goes  far  to  account  for  the 
never-failing  delightfulness  of  this  zigzag  decoration.  The 
diminution  of  the  zigzag,  as  it  gradually  shares  the  defeat  of 
the  vousaoir,  and  is  at  last  overwhelmed  by  the  complicated, 


THE  ARGHIVOLT  AND  APERTURE.  338 

railroad-like  fluc::cy  of  the  later  Gothic  mouldings,  is  to  me 
one  of  the  saddest  sights  in  the  drama  of  architecture. 

§  xv.  One  farther  circumstance  is  deserving  of  especial 
note  in  Plate  V.,  the  greater  depth  of  the  voussoirs  at  the  top 
of  the  arch.  This  has  been  above  alluded  to  as  a  feature  of 
good  construction,  Chap.  XI.,  §  m.  ;  it  is  to  be  noted  now  as 
one  still  more  valuable  in  decoration  :  for  when  we  arrive 
at  the  deep  succession  of  concentric  archivolts,  with  which 
northern  portals,  and  many  of  the  associated  windows,  are 
headed,  we  immediately  find  a  difficulty  in  reconciling  the 
outer  curve  with  the  inner.  If,  as  is  sometimes  the  case,  the 
width  of  the  group  of  archivolts  be  twice  or  three  times  that 
of  the  inner  aperture,  the  inner  arch  may  be  distinctly 
pointed,  and  the  outer  one,  if  drawn  with  concentric  arcs,  ap- 
proximate very  nearly  to  a  round  arch.  This  is  actually  the 
case  in  the  later  Gothic  of  Verona ;  the  outer  line  of  the 
archivolt  having  a  hardly  perceptible  point,  and  every  inner 
arch  of  course  forming  the  point  more  distinctly,  till  the  in- 
nermost becomes  a  lancet.  By  far  the  nobler  method,  how- 
ever, is  that  of  the  pure  early  Italian  Gothic  ;  to  make  every 
outer  arch  a  magnified  fac-simile  of  the  innermost  one,  every 
arc  including  the  same  number  of  degrees,  but  degrees  of  a 
larger  circle.  The  result  is  the  condition  represented  in 
Plate  V.,  often  found  in  far  bolder  development ;  exquisitely 
springy  and  elastic  in  its  expression,  and  entirely  free  from 
the  heaviness  and  monotony  of  the  deep  northern  archivolts. 

§  xvi.  We  have  not  spoken  of  the  intermediate  form,  6,  of 
Fig.  LXIX.  (which  its  convenience  for  admission  of  light  has 
rendered  common  in  nearly  all  architectures),  because  it  has 
no  transitions  peculiar  to  itself :  in  the  north  it  sometimes 
shares  the  fate  of  the  outer  architrave,  and  is  channelled  into 
longitudinal  mouldings ;  sometimes  remains  smooth  and  massy, 
as  in  military  architecture,  or  in  the  simpler  forms  of  domestic 
and  ecclesiastical  In  Italy  it  receives  surface  decoration  like 
the  architrave,  but  has,  perhaps,  something  of  peculiar  expres- 
sion in  being  placed  between  the  tracery  of  the  window  within, 
and  its  shafts  and  tabernacle  work  without,  as  in  the  Duomo 
of  Florence  :  in  this  position  it  is  always  kept  smooth  iu  BUT* 


334  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

face,  and  inlaid  (or  painted)  with  delicate  arabesques ;  while 
the  tracery  and  the  tabernacle  work  are  richly  sculptured. 
The  example  of  its  treatment  by  colored  voussoirs,  given  in 
Plate  XIX.,  may  be  useful  to  the  reader  as  a  kind  of  central 
expression  of  the  aperture  decoration  of  the  pure  Italian 
Gothic  ; — aperture  decoration  proper  ;  applying  no  shaft  work 
to  the  jambs,  but  leaving  the  bevelled  opening  unenriched  ; 
using  on  the  outer  archivolt  the  voussoirs  and  concentric 
architrave  in  reconcilement  (the  latter  having,  however,  some 
connection  with  the  Norman  zigzag)  ;  and  beneath  them,  the 
pure  Italian  two-pieced  and  mid-cusped  arch,  with  rich  cusp 
decoration.  It  is  a  Veronese  arch,  probably  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  and  finished  with  extreme  care  ;  the  red  portions  are 
all  in  brick,  delicately  cast :  and  the  most  remarkable  feature 
of  the  whole  is  the  small  piece  of  brick  inlaid  on  the  angle  of 
each  stone  voussoir,  with  a  most  just  feeling,  which  every 
artist  will  at  once  understand,  that  the  color  ought  not  to  be 
let  go  all  at  once. 

§  xvn.  We  have  traced  the  various  conditions  of  treatment 
in  the  archivolt  alone  ;  but,  except  in  what  has  been  said  of 
the  peculiar  expression  of  the  voussoirs,  we  might  throughout 
have  spoken  in  the  same  terms  of  the  jamb.  Even  a  parallel 
to  the  expression  of  the  voussoir  may  be  found  in  the  Lom- 
bardic  and  Norman  divisions  of  the  shafts,  by  zigzags  and 
other  transverse  ornamentation,  which  in  the  end  are  all  swept 
away  by  the  canalieulated  mouldings.  Then,  in  the  recesses 
of  these  and  of  the  archivolts  alike,  the  niche  and  statue  deco- 
ration develops  itself ;  and  the  vaulted  and  cavernous  apertures 
are  covered  with  incrustations  of  fretwork,  and  with  every 
various  application  of  foliage  to  their  fantastic  mouldings. 

§  xvm.  I  have  kept  the  inquiry  into  the  proper  ornament 
of  the  archivolt  wholly  free  from  all  confusion  with  the  ques- 
tions of  beauty  in  tracery ;  for,  in  fact,  all  tracery  is  a  mere 
multiplication  and  entanglement  of  small  archivolts,  and  ita 
cusp  ornament  is  a  minor  condition  of  that  proper  to  the  span- 
driL  It  does  not  reach  its  completely  defined  form  until  the 
jamb  and  archivolt  have  been  divided  into  longitudinal  mould- 
ing* ;  And  then  the  tracery  is  formed  by  the  innermost  group 


ROOF.  385 

yf  the  shafts  or  fillets,  bent  into  whatever  forms  or  foliations 
the  designer  may  choose ;  but  this  with  a  delicacy  of  adapta- 
tion which  I  rather  choose  to  illustrate  by  particular  examples, 
of  which  we  shall  meet  with  many  in  the  course  of  our  inquiry, 
than  to  delay  the  reader  by  specifying  here.  As  for  the  con- 
ditions of  beauty  in  the  disposition  of  the  tracery  bars,  I  see 
no  hope  of  dealing  with  the  subject  fairly  but  by  devoting,  it 
I  can  find  time,  a  separate  essay  to  it — which,  in  itself,  need 
not  be  long,  but  would  involve,  before  it  could  be  completed, 
the  examination  of  the  whole  mass  of  materials  lately  collected 
by  the  indefatigable  industry  of  the  English  architects  who 
have  devoted  their  special  attention  to  this  subject,  and  which 
are  of  the  highest  value  as  illustrating  the  chronological  suc- 
cession or  mechanical  structure  of  tracery,  but  which,  in  most 
cases,  touch  on  their  aesthetic  merits  incidentally  only.  Of 
works  of  this  kind,  by  far  the  best  I  have  met  with  is  Mr. 
Edmund  Sharpe's,  on  Decorated  Windows,  which  seems  to 
me,  as  far  as  a  cursory  glance  can  enable  me  to  judge,  to  ex- 
haust the  subject  as  respects  English  Gothic  ;  and  which  may 
be  recommended  to  the  readers  who  are  interested  of  the 
subject,  as  containing  a  clear  and  masterly  enunciation  of  the 
general  principles  by  which  the  design  of  tracery  has  been 
regulated,  from  its  first  development  to  its  final  degradation. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE    ROOF. 

§  i.  THE  modes  of  decoration  hitherto  considered,  have 
been  common  to  the  exteriors  and  interiors  of  all  noble  build- 
ings ;  and  we  have  taken  no  notice  of  the  various  kinds  of 
ornament  which  require  protection  from  weather,  and  are 
necessarily  confined  to  interior  work.  But  in  the  case  of  the 
roof,  the  exterior  and  interior  treatments  become,  as  we  saw 
in  construction,  so  also  in  decoration,  separated  by  broad  and 
bold  distinctions.  One  side  of  a  wall  is,  in  most  cases,  the 
same  as  another,  and  if  its  structure  be  concealed,  it  is  mostly 


386  THE  STONES  Of    VENIQ'8. 

on  the  inside  ;  but,  in  the  roof,  the  anatomical  structure,  out 
of  which  decoration  should  naturally  spring,  is  visible,  if  at 
all,  in  the  interior  only  :  so  that  the  subject  of  internal  orna- 
ment becomes  both  wide  and  important,  and  that  of  external, 
comparatively  subordinate. 

§  n.  Now.  so  long  as  we  were  concerned  principally  with 
the  outside  of  buildings,  we  might  with  safety  leave  expres- 
sional  character  out  of  the  question  for  the  time,  because  it  ia 
not  to  be  expected  that  all  persons  who  pass  the  building,  or 
see  it  from  a  distance,  shall  be  in  the  temper  which  the  build- 
ing is  properly  intended  to  induce  ;  so  that  ornaments  some- 
what at  variance  with  this  temper  may  often  be  employed 
externally  without  painful  effect.  But  these  ornaments  would 
be  inadmissible  in  the  interior,  for  those  who  enter  will  for  the 
most  part  either  be  in  the  proper  temper  which  the  building 
requires,  or  desirous  of  acquiring  it.  (The  distinction  is  not 
rigidly  observed  by  the  mediaeval  builders,  and  grotesques,  or 
profane  subjects,  occur  in  the  interior  of  churches,  in  bosses, 
crockets,  capitals,  brackets,  and  such  other  portions  of  minor 
ornament :  but  we  do  not  find  the  interior  wall  covered  with 
hunting  and  battle  pieces,  as  often  the  Lombardic  exteriors.) 
And  thus  the  interior  expression  of  the  roof  or  ceiling  becomes 
necessarily  so  various,  and  the  kind  and  degree  of  fitting  dec- 
oration so  dependent  upon  particular  circumstances,  that  it  is 
nearly  impossible  to  classify  its  methods,  or  limit  its  applica 
tioru 

§  m.  I  have  little,  therefore,  to  say  here,  and  that  touching 
rather  the  omission  than  the  selection  of  decoration,  as  far  as 
regards  interior  roofing.  Whether  of  timber  or  stone,  roofs 
are  necessarily  divided  into  surfaces,  and  ribs  or  beams  ; — 
surfaces,  flat  or  carved ;  ribs,  traversing  these  in  the  direc- 
tions where  main  strength  is  required  ;  or  beams,  filling  the 
hollow  of  the  dark  gable  with  the  intricate  roof-tree,  or  sup- 
porting the  flat  ceiling.  Wherever  the  ribs  and  beams  are 
simply  and  unaffectedly  arranged,  there  is  no  difficulty  about 
decoration  ;  the  beams  may  be  carved,  the  ribs  moulded,  and 
the  eye  is  satisfied  at  once  ;  but  when  the  vaulting  is  unribbed, 
M  in  plain  waggon  vaults  and  much  excellent  early  Gothic,  of 


TEE  ROOF.  337 

when  the  ceiling  is  flat,  it  becomes  a  difficult  question  hovr 
far  their  services  may  receive  ornamentation  independent  of 
their  structure.  I  have  never  myself  seen  a  flat  ceiling  satis- 
factorily decorated,  except  by  painting  :  there  is  much  good 
and  fanciful  panelling  in  old  English  domestic  architecture, 
but  it  always  is  in  some  degree  meaningless  and  mean.  Tht> 
flat  ceilings  of  Venice,  as  in  the  Scuola  di  San  Rocco  and 
Ducal  Palace,  have  in  their  vast  panellings  some  of  the  noblest 
paintings  (on  stretched  canvas)  which  the  world  possesses  : 
and  this  is  all  very  well  for  the  ceiling  ;  but  one  would  rather 
have  the  painting  in  a  better  place,  especially  when  the  rain 
soaks  through  its  canvas,  as  I  have  seen  it  doing  through 
many  a  noble  Tintoret.  On  the  whole,  flat  ceilings  are  as 
much  to  be  avoided  as  possible  ;  and,  when  necessary,  per- 
haps a  panelled  ornamentation  with  rich  colored  patterns  is 
the  most  satisfying,  and  loses  least  of  valuable  labor.  But  I 
leave  the  question  to  the  reader's  thought,  being  myself  ex- 
ceedingly undecided  respecting  it :  except  only  touching  one 
point — that  a  blank  ceiling  is  not  to  be  redeemed  by  a  deco- 
rated ventilator. 

§  iv.  I  have  a  more  confirmed  opinion,  however,  respecting 
the  decoration  of  curved  surfaces.  The  majesty  of  a  roof  is 
never,  I  think,  so  great,  as  when  the  eye  can  pass  undisturbed 
over  the  course  of  all  its  curvatures,  and  trace  the  dying  of  the 
shadows  along  its  smooth  and  sweeping  vaults.  And  I  would 
rather,  myself,  have  a  plain  ridged  Gothic  vault,  with  all  its 
rough  stones  visible,  to  keep  the  sleet  and  wind  out  of  a  cathe- 
dral aisle,  than  all  the  fanning  and  pendanting  and  foliation 
that  ever  bewildered  Tudor  wight.  But  mosaic  or  frescv. 
may  of  course  be  used  as  far  as  we  can  afford  or  obtain  them  ; 
for  these  do  not  break  the  curvature.  Perhaps  the  most 
solemn  roofs  in  the  world  are  the  apse  conchas  of  the  Roman- 
esque basilicas,  with  their  golden  ground  and  severe  figures. 
Exactly  opposed  to  these  are  the  decorations  which  disturb  the 
serenity  of  the  curve  without  giving  it  interest,  like  the  vulgar 
panelling  of  St.  Peter's  and  the  Pantheon ;  both,  I  think,  in 
the  last  degree  detestable. 

§  v.  As  roofs  internally  may  be  divided  into  surfaces  and 


838  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

ribs,  externally  they  may  be  divided  into  surfaces,  and  pointy 
or  ridges  ;  these  latter  often  receiving  very  bold  and  distinc- 
tive ornament.  The  outside  surface  is  of  small  importance  in 
central  Europe,  being  almost  universally  low  in  slope,  and 
tiled  throughout  Spain,  South  France,  and  North  Italy  :  of 
still  less  importance  where  it  is  flat,  as  a  terrace  ;  as  often  in 
South  Italy  and  the  East,  mingled  with  low  domes :  but  the 
larger  Eastern  and  Arabian  domes  become  elaborate  in  orna- 
mentation :  I  cannot  speak  of  them  with  confidence  ;  to  the 
mind  of  an  inhabitant  of  the  north,  a  roof  is  a  guard  against 
wild  weather  ;  not  a  surface  which  is  forever  to  bask  in  serene 
heat,  and  gleam  across  deserts  like  a  rising  moon.  I  can  only 
say,  that  I  have  never  seen  any  drawing  of  a  richly  decorated 
Eastern  dome  that  made  me  desire  to  see  the  original 

§  vi.  Our  own  northern  roof  decoration  is  necessarily  sim- 
ple. Colored  tiles  are  used  in  some  cases  with  quaint  effect ; 
but  I  believe  the  dignity  of  the  building  is  always  greater 
when  the  roof  is  kept  in  an  undisturbed  mass,  opposing  itself 
to  the  variegation  and  richness  of  the  walls.  The  Italian 
round  tile  is  itself  decoration  enough,  a  deep  and  rich  fluting, 
which  all  artists  delight  in  ;  this,  however,  is  fitted  exclusively 
for  low  pitch  of  roofs.  On  steep  domestic  roofs,  there  is  no 
ornament  better  than  may  be  obtained  by  merely  rounding, 
or  cutting  to  an  angle,  the  lower  extremities  of  the  flat  tiles 
or  shingles,  as  in  Switzerland  :  thus  the  whole  surface  is 
covered  with  an  appearance  of  scales,  a  fish-like  defence 
against  water,  at  once  perfectly  simple,  natural,  and  effective 
at  any  distance  ;  and  the  best  decoration  of  sloping  stone 
roofs,  as  of  spires,  is  a  mere  copy  of  this  scale  armor  ;  it  en- 
riches every  one  of  the  spires  and  pinnacles  of  the  cathedral 
of  Coutances,  and  of  many  Norman  and  early  Gothic  build- 
ings. Roofs  covered  or  edged  with  lead  have  often  patterns 
designed  upon  the  lead,  gilded  and  relieved  with  some  dark 
color,  as  on  the  house  of  Jaques  Cceur  at  Bourges ;  and  I 
imagine  the  effect  of  this  must  have  been  singularly  delicate 
and  beautiful,  but  only  traces  of  it  now  remain.  The  north- 
ern roofs,  however,  generally  stand  in  little  need  of  surface 
decoration,  Uie  eye  being  drawn  to  the  fantastic  ranges  of 


THE  ROOF.  33d 

Iheir  dormer  windows,  and  to  the  finials  and  fringes  on  their 
points  and  ridges. 

§  vn.  Whether  dormer  windows  are  legitimately  to  be 
classed  as  decorative  features,  seems  to  me  to  admit  of  doubt. 
The  northern  spire  system  is  evidently  a  mere  elevation  and 
exaggeration  of  the  domestic  turret  with  its  look-out  windowa, 
and  one  can  hardly  part  with  the  grotesque  lines  of  the  project 
tions,  though  nobody  is  to  be  expected  to  live  in  the  spire : 
but,  at  all  events,  such  windows  are  never  to  be  allowed  in 
places  visibly  inaccessible,  or  on  less  than  a  natural  and  ser- 
viceable scale. 

§  vni.  Under  the  general  head  of  roof-ridge  and  point 
decoration,  we  may  include,  as  above  noted,  the  entire  race 
of  fringes,  finials,  and  crockets.  As  there  is  no  use  in  any  of 
these  things,  and  as  they  are  visible  additions  and  parasitical 
portions  of  the  structure,  more  caution  is  required  in  their  use 
than  in  any  other  features  of  ornament,  and  the  architect  and 
spectator  must  both  be  in  felicitous  humor  before  they  can  be 
well  designed  or  thoroughly  enjoyed.  They  are  generally 
most  admirable  where  the  grotesque  Northern  spirit  has  most 
power  ;  and  I  think  there  is  almost  always  a  certain  spirit  of 
playfulness  in  them,  adverse  to  the  grandest  architectural 
effects,  or  at  least  to  be  kept  in  severe  subordination  to  the 
Berener  character  of  the  prevalent  lines.  But  as  they  are  op- 
posed to  the  seriousness  of  majesty  on  the  one  hand,  so  they 
are  to  4he  weight  of  dulness  on  the  other  ;  and  I  know  not  any 
features  which  make  the  contrast  between  continental  domestic 
architecture,  and  our  own,  more  humiliatingly  felt,  or  which 
give  so  sudden  a  feeling  of  new  life  and  delight,  when  we  pass 
from  the  streets  of  London  to  those  of  Abbeville  or  Rouen,  ae 
the  quaint  points  and  pinnacles  of  the  roof  gables  and  turrets. 
The  commonest  and  heaviest  roof  may  be  redeemed  by  a  spike 
at  the  end  of  it,  if  it  is  set  on  with  any  spirit ;  but  the  foreign 
builders  have  (or  had,  at  least)  a  peculiar  feeling  in  this,  and 
gave  animation  to  the  whole  roof  by  the  fringe  of  its  back, 
and  the  spike  on  its  forehead,  so  that  all  goes  together,  like 
the  dorsal  fins  and  spines  of  a  fish  ;  but  our  spikes  have  a  dull, 
icrewed  on,  look  ;  a  far-off  relationship  to  the  nuts  of  machia 


340  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

ery  ;  and  our  roof  fringes  are  sure  to  look  like  fenders,  as  il 
they  were  meant  to  catch  ashes  out  of  the  London  smoke- 
clouds. 

§  ix.  Stone  finials  and  crockets  are,  I  think,  to  be  considered 
in  architecture,  what  points  and  flashes  of  light  are  in  the 
color  of  painting,  or  of  nature.  There  are  some  landscapes 
whose  best  character  is  sparkling,  and  there  is  a  possibility  of 
repose  in  the  midst  of  brilliancy,  or  embracing  it, — as  on  the 
fields  of  summer  sea,  or  summer  land  : 

**  Calm,  and  deep  peace,  on  this  high  wold, 
And  oil  the  dews  that  drench  the  furze, 
And  on  the  silvery  gossamers, 
That  twinkle  into  green  and  gold." 

And  there  are  colorists  who  can  keep  their  quiet  in  the  midst 
of  a  jewellery  of  light ;  but,  for1  the  most  part,  it  is  better  to 
avoid  breaking  up  either  lines  or  masses  by  too  many  points, 
and  to  make  the  few  points  used  exceedingly  precious.  So 
the  best  crockets  and  finials  are  set,  like  stars,  along  the  lines, 
and  at  the  points,  which  they  adorn,  with  considerable  inter- 
vals between  them,  and  exquisite  delicacy  and  fancy  of  sculpt- 
ure in  their  own  designs ;  if  very  small,  they  may  become 
more  frequent,  and  describe  lines  by  a  chain  of  points  ;  but 
their  whole  value  is  lost  if  they  are  gathered  into  bunches  or 
clustered  into  tassels  and  knots  ;  and  an  over-indulgence  in 
them  always  marks  lowness  of  school.  In  Venice,  the  addi- 
tion of  the  finial  to  the  arch-head  is  the  first  sign  of  degrada- 
tion ;  all  her  best  architecture  is  entirely  without  either  crock- 
ets or  finials ;  and  her  ecclesiastical  architecture  may  be  classed, 
with  fearless  accuracy,  as  better  or  worse,  in  proportion  to  the 
diminution  or  expansion  of  the  crocket.  The  absolutely  per- 
fect use  of  the  crocket  is  found,  I  think,  in  the  tower  of  Giotto, 
and  in  some  other  buildings  of  the  Pisan  school.  In  the  North 
they  generally  err  on  one  side  or  other,  and  are  either  florid 
and  huge,  or  mean  in  outline,  looking  as  if  they  had  been 
pinched  out  of  the  stone-work,  as  throughout  the  entire  cathe- 
dral of  Amiens ;  and  are  besides  connected  with  the  generally 


THE   VESTIBULE.  341 

spotty  system  which  has  been  spoken  of  under  the  head  of 
archivolt  decoration. 

§  x.  Employed,  however,  in  moderation,  they  are  among  the 
most  delightful  means  of  delicate  expression  ;  and  the  archi- 
tect has  more  liberty  in  their  individual  treatment  than  in  any 
other  feature  of  the  building.  Separated  entirely  from  the 
structural  system,  they  are  subjected  to  no  shadow  of  any 
other  laws  than  those  of  grace  and  chastity  ;  and  the  fancy 
may  range  without  rebuke,  for  materials  of  their  design, 
through  the  whole  field  of  the  visible  or  imaginable  creation. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE    VESTIBULE. 

§  i.  I  HAVE  hardly  kept  my  promise.  The  reader  has  deco- 
rated but  little  for  himself  as  yet ;  but  I  have  not,  at  least, 
attempted  to  bias  his  judgment.  Of  the  simple  forms  of  deco- 
ration which  have  been  set  before  him,  he  has  always  been 
left  free  to  choose  ;  and  the  stated  restrictions  in  the  methods 
of  applying  them  have  been  only  those  which  followed  on  the 
necessities  of  construction  previously  determined.  These  hav- 
ing been  now  defined,  I  do  indeed  leave  my  reader  free  to 
build  ;  and  with  what  a  freedom  !  All  the  lovely  forms  of  the 
universe  set  before  him,  whence  to  choose,  and  all  the  lovely 
lines  that  bound  their  substance  or  guide  their  motion  ;  and 
of  all  these  lines,  — and  there  are  myriads  of  myriads  in  every 
bank  of  grass  and  every  tuft  of  forest ;  and  groups  of  them 
divinely  harmonized,  in  the  bell  of  every  flower,  and  in  every 
several  member  of  bird  and  beast, — of  all  these  lines,  for  the 
principal  forms  of  the  most  important  members  of  architect- 
ure, I  have  used  but  Three  !  What,  therefore,  must  be  the 
infinity  of  the  treasure  iu  them  all  !  There  is  material  enough 
in  a  single  flower  for  the  ornament  of  a  score  of  cathedrals, 
but  suppose  we  were  satisfied  with  less  exhaustive  appliance, 
and  built  a  score  of  cathedrals,  each  to  illustrate  a  single 
flower?  that  would  be  better  than  trying  to  invent  new 


S42  TBE  STONES  Of  VENICE. 

styles,  I  think.     There  is  quite  difference  of  style  enough,  bfr 
tween  a  violet  and  a  harebell,  for  all  reasonable  purposes. 

§  n.  Perhaps,  however,  even  more  strange  than  the  strug- 
gle of  our  architects  to  invent  new  styles,  is  the  way  they  com- 
monly speak  of  this  treasure  of  natural  infinity.  Let  us  take 
our  patience  to  us  for  an  instant,  and  hear  one  of  them,  not 
among  the  least  intelligent : — 

"  It  is  not  true  that  all  natural  forms  are  beautiful  We 
may  hardly  be  able  to  detect  this  in  Nature  herself  ;  but  when 
the  forms  are  separated  from  the  things,  and  exhibited  alone 
(by  sculpture  or  carving),  we  then  see  that  they  are  not  all 
fitted  for  ornamental  purposes  ;  and  indeed  that  very  few,  per- 
haps none,  are  so  fitted  without  correction.  Yes,  I  say  cor- 
rection, for  though  it  is  the  highest  aim  of  every  art  to  imitate 
nature,  this  is  not  to  be  done  by  imitating  any  natural  form, 
but  by  criticising  and  correcting  it, — criticising  it  by  Nature's 
rules  gathered  from  all  her  works,  but  never  completely  car- 
ried out  by  her  in  any  one  work  ;  correcting  it,  by  rendering 
it  more  natural,  i.  e.  more  conformable  to  the  general  tendency 
of  Nature,  according  to  that  noble  maxim  recorded  of  Eaffaelle, 
'that  the  artist's  object  was  to  make  things  not  as  Nature 
makes  them,  but  as  she  WOULD  make  them  ; '  as  she  ever  tries 
to  make  them,  but  never  succeeds,  though  her  aim  may  be  de- 
duced from  a  comparison  of  her  efforts  ;  just  as  if  a  number 
of  archers  had  aimed  unsuccessfully  at  a  mark  upon  a  wall, 
and  this  mark  were  then  removed,  we  could  by  the  examina- 
tion of  their  arrow  marks  point  out  the  most  probable  position 
of  the  spot  aimed  at,  with  a  certainty  of  being  nearer  to  it  than 
any  of  their  shots."  * 

§  m.  I  had  thought  that,  by  this  time,  we  had  done  with 
that  stale,  second-hand,  one-sided,  and  misunderstood  saying 
of  Raffaelle's ;  or  that  at  least,  in  these  days  of  purer  Christian 
light,  men  might  have  begun  to  get  some  insight  into  the 
meaning  of  it :  Raffaelle  was  a  painter  of  humanity,  and  as- 
suredly there  is  something  the  matter  with  humanity,  a  few 
dovrebbe's,  more  or  less,  wanting  in  it.  We  have  most  of  us 
heard  of  original  sin,  and  may  perhaps,  in  our  modest  moments, 
conjecture  that  we  are  not  quite  what  God,  or  nature,  would! 

*  Qarbett  on  Design,  p.  74. 


fOE   VESTIBULE.  348 

have  us  to  be.  Raffaelle  had  something  to  mend  in  Humanity ; 
I  should  have  liked  to  have  seen  him  mending  a  daisy! — or  n. 
pease-blossom,  or  a  moth,  or  a  mustard  seed,  or  any  other  of 
God's  slightest  works.  If  he  had  accomplished  that,  one 
might  have  found  for  him  more  respectable  employment,— 
to  set  the  stars  in  better  order,  perhaps  (they  seem  grievously 
scattered  as  they  are,  and  to  be  of  aH  manner  of  shapes  and 
sizes, — except  the  ideal  shape,  and  the  proper  size)  ;  or  to  give 
us  a  corrected  view  of  the  ocean  ;  that,  at  least,  seems  a  very 
irregular  and  improveable  thing ;  the  very  fishermen  do  not 
know,  this  day,  how  far  it  will  reach,  driven  up  before  the 
west  wind : — perhaps  Some  One  else  does,  but  that  is  not  our 
business.  Let  us  go  down  and  stand  by  the  beach  of  it, — of 
the  great  irregular  sea,  and  count  whether  the  thunder  of  it  is 
not  out  of  time.  One, — two : — here  comes  a  well-formed  wave 
at  last,  trembling  a  little  at  the  top,  but,  on  the  whole,  orderly. 
So,  crash  among  the  shingle,  and  up  as  far  as  this  grey  pebble ; 
now  stand  by  and  watch !  Another : — Ah,  careless  wave  !  why 
couldn't  you  have  kept  your  crest  on  ?  it  is  all  gone  away  into 
spray,  striking  up  against  the  cliffs  there — I  thought  as  much 
— missed  the  mark  by  a  couple  of  feet !  Another : — How  now, 
impatient  one  !  couldn't  you  have  waited  till  your  friend's  re- 
flux was  done  with,  instead  of  rolling  yourself  up  with  it  in 
that  unseemly  manner  ?  You  go  for  nothing.  A  fourth,  and 
a  goodly  one  at  last.  What  think  we  of  yonder  slow  rise,  and 
crystalline  hollow,  without  a  flaw  ?  Steady,  good  wave ;  not 
so  fast ;  not  so  fast ;  where  are  you  coming  to  ? — By  our  archi 
tectural  word,  this  is  too  bad  ;  two  yards  over  the  mark,  and 
ever  so  much  of  you  in  our  face  besides  ;  and  a  wave  which  we 
had  some  hope  of,  behind  there,  broken  all  to  pieces  out  at  sea, 
and  laying  a  great  white  table-cloth  of  foam  all  the  way  to  the 
shore,  as  if  the  marine  gods  were  to  dine  off  it !  Alas,  for 
these  unhappy  arrow  shots  of  Nature  ;  she  will  never  hit  her 
mark  with  those  unruly  waves  of  hers,  nor  get  one  of  them 
into  the  ideal  shape,  if  we  wait  for  a  thousand  years.  Let  ua 
send  for  a  Greek  architect  to  do  it  for  her.  He  comes— the 
great  Greek  architect,  with  measure  and  rule.  Will  he  no! 
also  make  the  weight  for  the  winds  ?  and  weigh  out  the  waters 


34-1  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

by  measure  ?  and  make  a  decree  for  the  rain,  and  a  way  for  the 
lightning  of  the  thunder  ?  He  sets  himself  orderly  to  his  works 
and  behold  !  this  is  the  mark  of  nature,  and  this  is  the  thing 
into  which  the  great  Greek  architect  improves  the  sea — 


®oA«TTa,  OaXarra :  Was  it  this,  then,  that  they  wept  to  see 
from  the  sacred  mountain — those  wearied  ones  ? 

§  iv.  But  the  sea  was  meant  to  be  irregular !  Yes,  and 
were  not  also  the  leaves,  and  the  blades  of  grass ;  and,  in  a 
sort,  as  far  as  may  be  without  mark  of  sin,  even  the  counte- 
nance of  man  ?  Or  would  it  be  pleasanter  and  better  to  have 
us  all  alike,  and  numbered  on  our  foreheads,  that  we  might 
be  known  one  from  the  other? 

§  v.  Is  there,  then,  nothing  to  be  done  by  man's  art  ?  Have 
we  only  to  copy,  and  again  copy,  for  ever,  the  imagery  of  the 
universe  ?  Not  S6.  We  have  work  to  do  upon  it ;  there  is 
not  any  one  of  us  so  simple,  nor  so  feeble,  but  he  has  work  to 
do  upon  it.  But  the  work  is  not  to  improve,  but  to  explain. 
This  infinite  universe  is  unfathomable,  inconceivable,  in  its 
•whole  ;  every  human  creature  must  slowly  spell  out,  and  long 
contemplate,  such  part  of  it  as  may  be  possible  for  him  to 
reach  ;  then  set  forth  what  he  has  learned  of  it  for  those  be- 
neath him  ;  extricating  it  from  infinity,  as  one  gathers  a 
riolet  out  of  grass ;  one  does  not  improve  either  violet  or 
grass  in  gathering  it,  but  one  makes  the  flower  visible  ;  and 
then  the  human  being  has  to  make  its  power  upon  his  own 
heart  visible  also,  and  to  give  it  the  honor  of  the  good 
thoughts  it  has  raised  up  in  him,  and  to  write  upon  it  the 
history  of  his  own  soul.  And  sometimes  he  may  be  able  to 
do  more  than  this,  and  to  set  it  in  strange  lights,  and  display 
it  in  a  thousand  ways  before  unknown  :  ways  specially  di- 
rected to  necessary  and  noble  purposes,  for  which  he  had  to 
choose  instruments  out  of  the  wide  armory  of  God.  All  thL 


THE   VESTIBULE.  345 

he  may  do  •.  and  in  this  he  is  only  doing  what  every  Christian 
has  to  do  with  the  written,  as  well  as  the  created  word, 
"rightly  dividing  the  word  of  truth."  Out  of  the  infinity  of 
the  written  word,  he  has  also  to  gather  and  set  forth  things 
new  and  old,  to  choose  them  for  the  season  and  the  work  that 
are  before  him,  to  explain  and  manifest  them  to  others,  with 
such  illustration  and  enforcement  as  may  be  in  his  power, 
and  to  crown  them  with  the  history  of  what,  by  them,  God 
has  done  for  his  souL  And,  in  doing  this,  is  he  improving 
the  Word  of  God  ?  Just  such  difference  as  there  is  between 
the  sense  in  which  a  minister  may  be  said  to  improve  a  text, 
to  the  people's  comfort,  and  the  sense  in  which  an  atheist 
might  declare  that  he  could  improve  the  Book,  which,  if  any 
man  shall  add  unto,  there  shall  be  added  unto  him  the 
plagues  that  are  written  therein  ;  just  such  difference  is  there 
between  that  which,  with  respect  to  Nature,  man  is,  in  his 
humbleness,  called  upon  to  do,  and  that  which,  in  his  inso- 
lence, he  imagines  himself  capable  of  doing. 

§  vi.  Have  no  fear,  therefore,  reader,  in  judging  between 
nature  and  art,  so  only  that  you  love  both.  If  you  can  love 
one  only,  then  let  it  be  Nature  ;  you  are  safe  with  her  :  but 
do  not  then  attempt  to  judge  the  art,  to  which  you  do  not 
care  to  give  thought,  or  time.  But  if  you  love  both,  you  may 
judge  between  them  fearlessly  ;  you  may  estimate  the  last, 
by  its  making  you  remember  the  first,  and  giving  you  the 
same  kind  of  joy.  If,  in  the  square  of  the  city,  you  can  find 
a  delight,  finite,  indeed,  but  pure  and  intense,  like  that  which 
you  have  in  a  valley  among  the  hills,  then  its  art  and  archi- 
tecture are  right ;  but  if,  after  fair  trial,  you  can  find  no  de- 
light in  them,  nor  any  instruction  like  that  of  nature,  I  call 
on  you  fearlessly  to  condemn  them. 

We  are  forced,  for  the  sake  of  accumulating  our  power  and 
knowledge,  to  live  in  cities  ;  but  such  advantage  as  we  have 
in  association  with  each  other  is  in  great  part  counterbalanced 
by  our  loss  of  fellowship  with  nature.  We  cannot  all  have 
our  gardens  now,  nor  our  pleasant  fields  to  meditate  in  at 
eventide.  Then  the  function  of  our  architecture  is,  as  far  as 
may  be,  to  replace  these  ;  to  tell  us  about  nature  ;  to  possess 

Stones  of  Venice— Vol.  T. — itt 


346  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

us  with  memories  of  her  quietness ;  to  be  solemn  and  full  of 
tenderness,  like  her,  and  rich  in  portraitures  of  her  ;  full  of 
delicate  imagery  of  the  flowers  we  can  no  more  gather,  and  of 
the  living  creatures  now  far  away  from  us  in  their  own  soli- 
tude. If  ever  you  felt  or  found  this  in  a  London  Street, — if 
ever  it  furnished  you  with  one  serious  thought,  or  one  ray  of 
true  and  gentle  pleasure, — if  there  is  in  your  heart  a  true  de- 
light in  its  grim  railings  and  dark  casements,  and  wasteful 
finery  of  shops,  and  feeble  coxcombry  of  club-houses, — it  is 
well :  promote  the  building  of  more  like  them.  But  if  they 
never  taught  you  anything,  and  never  made  you  happier  as 
you  passed  beneath  them,  do  not  think  they  have  any  myste- 
rious goodness  nor  occult  sublimity.  Have  done  with  the 
wretched  affectation,  the  futile  barbarism,  of  pretending  to 
enjoy :  for,  as  surely  as  you  know  that  the  meadow  grass, 
meshed  with  fairy  rings,  is  "better  than  the  wood  pavement, 
cut  into  hexagons ;  and  as  surely  as  you  know  the  fresh  winds 
and  sunshine  of  the  upland  are  better  than  the  choke-damp 
of  the  vault,  or  the  gas-light  of  the  ball-room,  you  may  know, 
as  I  told  you  that  you  should,  that  the  good  architecture, 
which  has  life,  and  truth,  and  joy  in  it,  is  better  than  the  bad 
architecture,  which  has  death,  dishonesty,  and  vexation  of 
heart  in  it,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  time. 

§  vn.  And  now  come  with  me,  for  I  have  kept  you  too  long 
from  your  gondola  :  come  with  me,  on  an  autumnal  morning, 
through  the  dark  gates  of  Padua,  and  let  us  take  the  broad 
road  leading  towards  the  East 

It  lies  level,  for  a  league  or  two,  between  its  elms,  and  vine 
festoons  full  laden,  their  thin  leaves  veined  into  scarlet  hectic, 
and  their  clusters  deepened  into  gloomy  blue ;  then  mounts 
an  embankment  above  the  Brenta,  and  runs  between  the  river 
and  the  broad  plain,  which  stretches  to  the  north  in  endless 
lines  of  mulberry  and  maize.  The  Brenta  flows  slowly,  buj 
strongly  ;  a  muddy  volume  of  yellowish-grey  water,  that 
neither  hastens  nor  slackens,  but  glides  heavily  between  its 
monotonous  banks,  with  here  and  there  a  short,  babbling 
eddy  twisted  for  an  instant  into  its  opaque  surface,  and  van- 
ishing, as  if  something  had  been  dragged  into  it  and  gone 


THE  VESTIBULE.  347 

down.  Dusty  and  shadeless,  the  road  fares  along  the  dyke 
on  its  northern  side  ;  and  the  tall  white  tower  of  Dolo  is  seen 
trembling  in  the  heat  mist  far  away,  and  never  seems  nearer 
than  it  did  at  first.  Presently  you  pass  one  of  the  much 
vaunted  "villas  on  the  Brenta:"  a  glaring,  spectral  shell  of 
brick  and  stucco,  its  windows  with  painted  architraves  like 
picture-frames,  and  a  court-yard  paved  with  pebbles  in  front 
of  it,  all  burning  in  the  thick  glow  of  the  feverish  sunshine, 
but  fenced  from  the  high  road,  for  magnificence  sake,  with 
goodly  posts  and  chains  ;  then  another,  of  Kew  Gothic,  with 
Chinese  variations,  painted  red  and  green  ;  a  third  composed 
for  the  greater  part  of  dead-wall,  with  fictitious  windows 
painted  upon  it,  each  with  a  pea-green  blind,  and  a  classical 
architrave  in  bad  perspective  ;  and  a  fourth,  with  stucco  fig- 
ures set  on  the  top  of  its  garden-wall :  some  antique,  like  the 
kind  to  be  seen  at  the  corner  of  the  New  Road,  and  some  of 
clumsy  grotesque  dwarfs,  with  fat  bodies  and  large  boots. 
This  is  the  architecture  to  which  her  studies  of  the  Renais- 
sance have  conducted  modern  Italy. 

§  vin.  The  sun  climbs  steadily,  and  warms  into  intense 
white  the  walls  of  the  little  piazza  of  Dolo,  where  we  change 
horses.  Another  dreary  stage  among  the  now  divided 
branches  of  the  Brenta,  forming  irregular  and  half-stagnant 
canals ;  with  one  or  two  more  villas  on  the  other  side  of  them, 
but  these  of  the  old  Venetian  type,  which  we  may  have  recog- 
nised before  at  Padua,  and  sinking  fast  into  utter  ruin,  black, 
and  rent,  and  lonely,  set  close  to  the  edge  of  the  dull  water, 
with  what  were  once  small  gardens  beside  them,  kneaded  into 
mud,  and  with  blighted  fragments  of  gnarled  hedges  and 
broken  stakes  for  their  fencing ;  and  here  and  there  a  few 
fragments  of  marble  steps,  which  have  once  given  them  grace- 
ful access  from  the  water's  edge,  now  settling  into  the  mud 
in  broken  joints,  all  aslope,  and  slippery  with  green  weed. 
At  last  the  road  turns  sharply  to  the  north,  and  there  is  an 
open  space,  covered  with  bent  grass,  on  the  right  of  it :  but 
do  not  look  that  way. 

§  rx.  Five  minutes  more,  and  we  are  in  the  upper  room  of 
the  little  inn  at  Mestre,  glad  of  a  moment's  rest  in  shad* 


348  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

The  table  is  (always,  I  think)  covered  with  a  cloth  of  nominal 
•white  and  perennial  grey,  with  plates  and  glasses  at  due  inter- 
vals, and  small  loaves  of  a  peculiar  white  bread,  made  with 
oil,  and  more  like  knots  of  flour  than  bread.  The  view  from 
its  balcony  is  not  cheerful :  a  narrow  street,  with  a  solitary 
brick  church  and  baiTen  campanile  on  the  other  side  of  it ; 
and  some  conventual  buildings,  with  a  few  crimson  remnants 
cf  fresco  about  their  windows ;  and,  between  them  and  the 
street,  a  ditch  with  some  slow  current  in  it,  and  one  or  two 
small  houses  beside  it,  one  with  an  arbor  of  roses  at  its  door, 
as  in  an  English  tea-garden ;  the  ah*,  however,  about  us  hav- 
ing in  it  nothing  of  roses,  but  a  close  smell  of  garlic  and  crabs, 
warmed  by  the  smoke  of  various  stands  of  hot  chestnuts. 
There  is  much  vociferation  also  going  on  beneath  the  window 
respecting  certain  wheelbarrows  which  are  in  rivalry  for  our 
baggage  :  we  appease  their  rivalry  with  our  best  patience,  and 
follow  them  down  the  narrow  street. 

§  x.  We  have  but  walked  some  two  hundred  yards  when 
we  come  to  a  low  wharf  or  quay,  at  the  extremity  of  a  canal, 
with  long  steps  on  each  side  down  to  the  water,  which  latter 
we  fancy  for  an  instant  has  become  black  with  stagnation  ; 
another  glance  undeceives  us, — it  is  covered  with  the  black 
boats  of  Venice.  We  enter  one  of  them,  rather  to  try  if  they 
be  real  boats  or  not,  than  with  any  definite  purpose,  and  glide 
away ;  at  first  feeling  as  if  the  water  were  yielding  continually 
beneath  the  boat  and  letting  her  sink  into  soft  vacancy.  It  ia 
something  clearer  than  any  water  we  have  seen  lately,  and  of 
a  pale  green ;  the  banks  only  two  or  three  feet  above  it,  of 
mud  and  rank  grass,  with  here  and  there  a  stunted  tree  ;  glid- 
ing swiftly  past  the  small  casement  of  the  gondola,  as  if  they 
were  dragged  by  upon  a  painted  scene. 

Stroke  by  stroke  we  count  the  plunges  of  the  oar,  each 
heaving  up  the  side  of  the  boat  slightly  as  her  silver  beak 
shoots  forward.  We  lose  patience,  and  extricate  ourselves 
from  the  cushions  :  the  sea  air  blows  keenly  by,  as  we  stand 
leaning  on  the  roof  of  the  floating  cell  In  front,  nothing  to 
be  seen  but  long  canal  and  level  bank ;  to  the  west,  the  tower 
of  Mestre  is  lowering  fast,  and  behind  it  there  have  risen  pup* 


THE   VESTIBULE.  341 

pie  shapes,  of  the  color  of  dead  rose-leaves,  all  round  the  hori- 
zon, feebly  defined  against  the  afternoon  sky,— the  Alps  o* 
Bassano.  Forward  still :  the  endless  canal  bends  at  last,  and 
then  breaks  into  intricate  angles  about  some  low  bastions,  now 
torn  to  pieces  and  staggering  in  ugly  rents  towards  the  water, 
— the  bastions  of  the  fort  of  Malghera.  Another  turn,  and 
another  perspective  of  canal ;  but  not  interminable.  The 
silver  beak  cleaves  it  fast, — it  widens  :  the  rank  grass  of  the 
banks  sinks  lower,  and  lower,  and  at  last  dies  in  tawny  knots 
along  an  expanse  of  weedy  shore.  Over  it,  on  the  right,  but 
a  few  years  back,  we  might  have  seen  the  lagoon  stretching  to 
the  horizon,  and  the  warm  southern  sky  bending  over  Mala- 
mocco  to  the  sea.  Now  we  can  see  nothing  but  what  seems  a 
low  and  monotonous  dock-yard  wall,  with  flat  arches  to  let 
the  tide  through  it ; — this  is  the  railroad  bridge,  conspicuous 
above  all  things.  But  at  the  end  of  those  dismal  arches,  there 
rises,  out  of  the  wide  water,  a  straggling  line  of  low  and  con- 
fused brick  buildings,  which,  but  for  the  many  towers  which 
are  mingled  among  them,  might  be  the  suburbs  of  an  English 
manufacturing  town.  Four  or  five  domes,  pale,  and  appar- 
ently at  a  greater  distance,  rise  over  the  centre  of  the  line  ; 
but  the  object  which  first  catches  the  eye  is  a  sullen  cloud  of 
black  smoke  brooding  over  the  northern  half  of  it,  and  which 
issues  from  the  belfry  of  a  church. 
It  is  Venice. 


APPENDIX. 


1.    FOUNDATION    OF   VENICE-; 

I  FIND  the  chroniclers  agree  in  fixing  the  year  421,  if  any  > 
the  following  sentence  from  De  Monaci  may  perhaps  interest 
the  reader. 

"  God,  who  punishes  the  sins  of  men  by  war  sorrows,  and 
whose  ways  are  past  finding  out,  willing  both  to  save  the  in- 
nocent blood,  and  that  a  great  power,  beneficial  to  the  whole 
world,  should  arise  in  a  spot  strange  beyond  belief,  moved 
the  chief  men  of  the  cities  of  the  Venetian  province  (which 
from  the  border  of  Pannonia,  extended  as  far  as  the  Adda,  a 
river  of  Lombarcly),  both  in  memory  of  past,  and  in  dread  of 
future  distress,  to  establish  states  upon  the  nearer  Islands  of 
the  inner  gulphs  of  the  Adriatic,  to  which,  in  the  last  neces- 
sity, they  might  retreat  for  refuge.  And  first  Galienus  de 
Fontana,  Simon  de  Glauconibus,  and  Antonius  Calvus,  or, 
as  others  have  it,  Adalburtus  Falerius,  Thomas  Candiano, 
Comes  Daulus,  Consuls  of  Padua,  by  the  command  of  their 
King  and  the  desire  of  the  citizens,  laid  the  foundations  of 
the  new  commonwealth,  under  good  auspices,  on  the  island 
of  the  Rialto,  the  highest  and  nearest  to  the  mouth  of  the 
deep  river  now  called  the  Brenta,  in  the  year  of  Our  Lord, 
as  many  writers  assure  us,  four  hundred  and  twenty -one,  on 
the  25th  day  of  March."* 

It  is  matter  also  of  very  great  satisfaction  to  know  that 
Venice  was  founded  by  good  Christians  :  "  La  qual  citade  6 
stada  hedificada  da  veri  e  boni  Christiani : "  which  informa- 

*  Ed.  VenetiB,  1758,  Lib.  L 


352  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

tion  I  found  in  the  MS.  copy  of  the  Zancarol  Chronicle,  in 
the  library  of  St.  Mark'a 

Finally  the  conjecture  as  to  the  origin  of  her  name,  re- 
corded by  Sansovino,  will  be  accepted  willingly  by  all  who 
love  Venice  :  "  Fu  interpretato  da  alcuni,  che  questa  voce 
VENETIA  voglia  dire  VENI  ETIAM,  cioe,  vieni  ancora,  e  an- 
cora,  percioche  quante  volte  verrai,  sempre  vedrai  nuove  cose, 
enuove  bellezze." 

2.  POWER   OF    THE   DOGES. 

The  best  authorities  agree  in  giving  the  year  697  a*  that  oi 
the  election  of  the  first  doge,  Paul  Luke  Anafeste.  He  was 
elected  in  a  general  meeting  of  the  commonalty,  tribunes,  and 
clergy,  at  Heraclea,  "divinus  rebus  procuratis,"  as  usual,  in 
all  serious  work,  in  those  times.  His  authority  is  thus  de- 
fined by  SabeUico,  who  was  not  likely  to  have  exaggerated 
it : — "  Penes  quern  decus  omne  imperii  ac  majestasesset  :  cui 
jus  concilium  cogendi  quoties  de  republica  aliquid  referri 
oporteret ;  qui  tribunes  annuos  in  singulas  insulas  legeret,  a 
quibus  ad  Ducern  esset  provocatio.  Caeterum,  si  quis  digni- 
tatem, ecclesiam,  sacerdotumve  cleri  populique  suuragio  esset 
adeptus,  ita  demum  id  ratum  haberetur  si  dux  ipse  auctor 
factus  esset."  (Lib.  I.)  The  last  clause  is  very  important, 
indicating  the  subjection  of  the  ecclesiastical  to  the  popular 
and  ducal  (or  patrician)  powers,  which,  throughout  her  ca- 
reer, was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  features  in  the  policy 
of  Venice.  The  appeal  from  the  tribunes  to  the  doge  is  also 
important ;  and  the  expression  "  decus  omne  imperii,"  if  of 
somewhat  doubtful  force,  is  at  least  as  energetic  as  could 
have  been  expected  from  an  historian  under  the  influence  of 
the  Council  of  Ten. 

3.  8EBBAB   DEL   CONSIGUO. 

The  date  of  the  decree  which  made  the  right  of  sitting  in 
the  grand  council  hereditary,  is  variously  given  ;  the  Venetian 
historians  themselves  saying  as  little  as  they  can  about  it. 
The  thing  was  evidently  not  accomplished  at  once,  several  de- 


APPENDIX.  358 

crees  following  in  successive  years :  the  Council  of  Ten  waa 
established  without  any  doubt  in  1310,  in  consequence  of  the 
conspiracy  of  Tiepolo.  The  Venetian  verse,  quoted  by  Muti- 
nelli  (Annali  Urbani  di  Venezia,  p.  153),  is  worth  remember- 
ing. 

"  Del  mille  tresento  e  diese 
A  mezzo  el  mese  delle  ceriese 
Bagiamonte  passo  el  ponte 
E  per  esso  fo  fatto  el  Consegio  di  diese." 

The  reader  cannot  do  better  than  take  1297  as  the  date  of  the 
beginning  of  the  change  of  government,  and  this  will  enable 
him  exactly  to  divide  the  1100  years  from  the  election  of  the 
first  doge  into  600  of  monarchy  and  500  of  aristocracy.  The 
coincidence  of  the  numbers  is  somewhat  curious  ;  697  the 
date  of  the  establishment  of  the  government,  1297  of  its 
change,  and  1797  of  its  fall. 

4.    8.    PIETEO   DI   CASTELLO. 

It  is  credibly  reported  to  have  been  founded  in  the  seventh 
century,  and  (with  somewhat  less  of  credibility)  in  a  place 
where  the  Trojans,  conducted  by  Antenor,  had,  after  the  de- 
struction of  Troy,  built  "  un  castello,  chiamato  prima  Troja, 
poscia  Olivolo,  interpretato,  luogo  pieno."  It  seems  that  St. 
Peter  appeared  in  person  to  the  Bishop  of  Heraclea,  and  com- 
manded him  to  found  in  his  honor,  a  church  in  that  spot  of 
the  rising  city  on  the  Rialto  :  "  ove  avesse  veduto  una  mandra 
di  buoi  e  di  pecore  pascolare  unitamente.  Questa  fu  la  pro- 
digiosa  origine  della  Chiesa  di  San  Pietro,  che  poscia,  o  rino- 
Tata,  o  ristaurata,  da  Orso  Participazio  IV  Vescovo  Olivolense, 
divenne  la  Cattedrale  della  Nuova  citta."  (Notizie  Storiche 
delle  Chiese  e  Monasteri  di  Venezia.  Padua,  1758.)  What 
there  was  so  prodigious  in  oxen  and  sheep  feeding  together, 
we  need  St.  Peter,  I  think,  to  tell  us.  The  title  of  Bishop  of 
Castello  was  first  taken  in  1091  :  St.  Mark's  was  not  made  the 
cathedral  church  till  1807.  It  may  be  thought  hardly  fair  to 
conclude  the  small  importance  of  the  old  St.  Pietro  di  Castello 
from  the  appearance  of  the  wretched  modernisations  of  1620. 
VOL.  L— 23 


354:  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

But  these  modernisations  are  spoken  of  as  improvements', 
and  I  find  no  notice  of  peculiar  beauties  in  the  older  building, 
either  in  the  work  above  quoted,  or  by  Sansovino  ;  who  only 
says  that  when  it  was  destroyed  by  fire  (as  everything  in 
Venice  was,  I  think,  about  three  times  in  a  century),  in  the 
reign  of  Vital  Michele,  it  was  rebuilt  "  with  good  thick  walls, 
maintaining,  for  all  that,  the  order  of  its  arrangement  taken 
from  the  Greek  mode  of  building."  This  does  not  seem  the 
description  of  a  very  enthusiastic  effort  to  rebuild  a  highly 
ornate  cathedral.  The  present  church  is  among  the  least  in- 
teresting in  Venice  ;  a  wooden  bridge,  something  like  that  of 
Battersea  on  a  small  scale,  connects  its  island,  now  almost  de- 
serted, with  a  wretched  suburb  of  the  city  behind  the  arsenal ; 
and  a  blank  level  of  lifeless  grass,  rotted  away  in  places  rather 
than  trodden,  is  extended  before  its  mildewed  fayade  and  soli- 
tary tower. 

6.    PAPAL    POWER   IN    VENICE. 

I  may  refer  the  reader  to  the  eleventh  chapter  of  the 
twenty-eighth  book  of  Daru  for  some  account  of  the  restraints 
to  which  the  Venetian  clergy  were  subjected.  I  have  not  my- 
self been  able  to  devote  any  time  to  the  examination  of  the 
original  documents  bearing  on  this  matter,  but  the  following 
extract  from  a  letter  of  a  friend,  who  will  not  at  present  per- 
mit me  to  give  his  name,  but  who  is  certainly  better  con- 
versant with  the  records  of  the  Venetian  State  than  any 
other  Englishman,  will  be  of  great  value  to  the  general 
reader : — 

"  In  the  year  1410,  or  perhaps  at  the  close  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  churchmen  were  excluded  from  the  Grand  Council 
and  declared  ineligible  to  civil  employment ;  and  in  the  same 
year,  1410,  the  Council  of  Ten,  with  the  Giunta,  decreed  that 
whenever  in  the  state's  councils  matters  concerning  ecclesias- 
tical affairs  were  being  treated,  all  the  kinsfolk  of  Venetian 
beneficed  clergymen  were  to  be  expelled  ;  and,  in  the  year 
1434,  the  RELATIONS  of  churchmen  were  declared  ineligible  to 
the  post  of  ambassador  at  Rome. 


APPENDIX.  33ft 

"  The  Venetians  never  gave  possession  of  any  see  in  their 
territories  to  bishops  unless  they  had  been  proposed  to  the 
pope  by  the  senate,  which  elected  the  patriarch,  who  was  sup- 
posed, at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  to  be  liable  to  ex- 
amination by  his  Holiness,  as  an  act  of  confirmation  of  instal- 
lation ;  but  of  course,  everything  depended  on  the  relative 
power  at  any  given  time  of  Borne  and  Venice  :  for  instance,  a 
few  days  after  the  accession  of  Julius  H,  in  1503,  he  requests 
the  Signory,  cap  in  hand,  to  ALLOW  him  to  confer  the  archbish- 
opric of  Zara  on  a  dependant  of  his,  one  Cipico  the  Bishop 
of  Famagosta.  Six  years  later,  when  Venice  was  overwhelmed 
by  the  leaguers  of  Cambrai,  that  furious  pope  would  assuredly 
have  conferred  Zara  on  Cipico  WITHOUT  asking  leave.  In  1608, 
the  rich  Camaldolite  Abbey  of  Vangadizza,  in  the  Polesine, 
fell  vacant  through  the  death  of  Lionardo  Loredano,  in  whose 
family  it  had  been  since  some  while.  The  Venetian  ambassa- 
dor at  Home  received  the  news  on  the  night  of  the  28th  De- 
cember ;  and,  on  the  morrow,  requested  Paul  IV.  not  to  dis- 
pose of  this  preferment  until  he  heard  from  the  senate.  The 
pope  talked  of  '  poor  cardinals '  and  of  his  nephew,  but  made 
no  positive  reply  ;  and,  as  Francesco  Contarini  was  withdraw- 
ing, said  to  him  :  '  My  Lord  ambassador,  with  this  opportu- 
nity we  will  inform  you  that,  to  our  very  great  regret,  we  un- 
derstand that  the  chiefs  of  the  Ten  mean  to  turn  sacristans  ; 
for  they  order  the  parish  priests  to  close  the  church  doors  at 
the  Ave  Maria,  and  not  to  ring  the  bells  at  certain  hours.  This 
is  precisely  the  sacristan's  office  ;  we  don't  know  why  their 
lordships,  by  printed  edicts,  which  we  have  seen,  choose  to  in- 
terfere in  this  matter.  This  is  pure  and  mere  ecclesiastical 
jurisdiction ;  and  even,  in  case  of  any  inconvenience  arising, 
is  there  not  the  patriarch,  who  is  at  any  rate  your  own  ;  why 
not  apply  to  him,  who  could  remedy  these  irregularities? 
These  are  matters  which  cause  us  very  notable  displeasure ; 
we  aay  so  that  they  may  be  written  and  known  :  it  is  decided 
by  the  councils  and  canons,  and  not  uttered  by  us,  that  who- 
soever forms  any  resolve  against  the  ecclesiastical  liberty,  can- 
not do  so  without  incurring  censure  :  and  in  order  that  Father 
Paul  [Bacon's  correspondent]  may  not  say  hereafter,  as  he  did 


850  THE  STONES  OF   VENIGB. 

in  his  past  writings,  that  our  predecessors  assented  eithst 
tacitly  or  by  permission,  we  declare  that  we  do  not  give  our 
assent,  nor  do  we  approve  it ;  nay,  we  blame  it,  and  let  this 
be  announced  in  Venice,  so  that,  for  the  rest,  every  one  may 
take  cai-e  of  his  own  conscience.  St.  Thomas  &  Beoket,  whose 
festival  is  celebrated  this  very  day,  suffered  martyrdom  for  the 
ecclesiastical  liberty  ;  it  is  our  duty  likewise  to  support  and 
defend  it.'  Contarini  says  :  '  This  remonstrance  was  delivered 
with  some  marks  of  auger,  which  induced  me  to  tell  him  how 
the  tribunal  of  the  most  excellent  the  Lords  chiefs  of  the  Ten  is 
in  our  country  supreme  ;  that  it  does  not  do  its  business  unad- 
risedly,  or  condescend  to  unworthy  matters ;  and  that,  there- 
fore, should  those  Lords  have  come  to  any  public  declaration  of 
their  will,  it  must  be  attributed  to  orders  anterior,  and  to  im- 
memorial custom  and  authority,  recollecting  that,  on  former 
occasions  likewise,  similar  commissions  were  given  to  prevent 
divers  incongruities  ;  wherefore  an  upright  intention,  such  aa 
this,  ought  not  to  be  taken  in  any  other  sense  than  its  own, 
especially  as  the  parishes  of  Venice  were  in  her  own  gift,'  &c. 
&c.  The  pope  persisted  in  bestowing  the  abbacy  on  his  nephew, 
but  the  republic  would  not  give  possession,  and  a  compromise 
was  effected  by  its  being  conferred  on  the  Venetian  Matteo 
Priuli,  who  allowed  the  cardinal  five  thousand  ducats  per  an- 
num out  of  its  revenues.  A  few  years  before  this,  this  very 
same  pope  excommunicated  the  State,  because  she  had  im- 
prisoned two  churchmen  for  heinous  crimes  ;  the  strife  lasted 
for  more  than  a  year,  and  ended  through  the  mediation  o! 
Henry  IV.,  at  whose  suit  the  prisoners  were  delivered  to  the 
French  ambassador,  who  made  them  over  to  a  papal  commis- 
sioner. 

"In  January,  1484,  a  tournament  was  in  preparation  on  St. 
Mark's  Square  :  some  murmurs  had  been  heard  about  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  prizes  having  been  pre-arranged,  without  re- 
gard to  the  'best  man.'  One  of  the  chiefs  of  the  Ten  was 
walking  along  Rialto  on  the  28th  January,  when  a  young 
priest,  twenty-two  years  old,  a  sword-cutler's  son,  and  a  Bo- 
lognese,  and  one  of  Perugia,  both  mon-at-arms  under  Kobert 
Sansoveriuo,  fell  upon  a  clothier  with  drawn  weapons.  The 


APPENDIX.  357 

chief  of  the  Ten  desired  they  might  be  seized,  but  at  the  mo- 
ment the  priest  escaped  ;  he  was,  however,  subsequently  re- 
taken, and  in  that  very  evening  hanged  by  torch-light  between 
the  columns  with  the  two  soldiers.  Innocent  "VlLL.  was  less 
powerful  than  Paul  IV.  ;  Venice  weaker  in  1605  than  in  1484. 

«  *  *  *  <j^e  exclusion  from  the  Grand  Council,  whether  at 
the  end  of  the  fourtenth  or  commencement  of  the  following 
century,  of  the  Venetian  ecclesiastics,  (as  induced  either  by 
the  republic's  acquisitions  on  the  main  land  then  made,  and 
which,  through  the  rich  benefices  they  embraced,  might  have 
rendered  an  ambitious  churchman  as  dangerous  in  the  Grand 
Council  as  a  victorious  condottiere  ;  or  from  dread  of  their 
allegiance  being  divided  between  the  church  and  their  coun- 
try, it  being  acknowledged  that  no  man  can  serve  two  masters,) 
did  not  render  them  hostile  to  their  fatherland,  whose  in- 
terests were,  with  very  few  exceptions,  eagerly  fathered  by 
the  Venetian  prelates  at  Home,  who,  in  their  turn,  received 
all  honor  at  Venice,  where  state  receptions  given  to  cardinals 
of  the  houses  of  Correr,  Grimani,  Cornaro,  Pisani,  Contarini, 
Zeno,  Delfino,  and  others,  vouch  for  the  good  understanding 
that  existed  between  the  '  Papalists '  and  their  countrymen. 
The  Cardinal  Grimani  was  instrumental  in  detaching  Julius 
IL  from  the  league  of  Cambrai ;  the  Cardinal  Cornaro  always 
aided  the  state  to  obtain  anything  required  of  Leo  X.  ;  and, 
both  before  and  after  their  times,  all  Venetians  that  had  a 
seat  in  the  Sacred  College  were  patriots  rather  than  pluraliste : 
I  mean  that  they  cared  more  for  Venice  than  for  their  bene- 
fices, admitting  thus  the  soundness  of  that  policy  which  de- 
nied them  admission  into  the  Grand  Council." 

To  this  interesting  statement,  I  shall  add,  from  the  twenty- 
eighth  book  of  Daru,  two  passages,  well  deserving  considera- 
tion by  us  English  in  present  days : 

"  Pour  etre  parfaitement  assuree  centre  les  envahissemente 
de  la  puissance  eccl6siastique,  Venise  commen9a  par  lui  oter 
tout  pretexte  d'intervenir  dans  les  affaires  de  1'Etat ;  elle  resta 
invariablement  fidele  au  dogme.  Jamais  aucune  des  opinions 
nouvelles  n'y  prit  la  moindre  f aveur  ;  jamais  aucun  heresiarque 
ne  sortit  de  Venise.  Les  conciles,  les  disputes,  les  guerres  de 


358  THE  STONES  OP   VENICE. 

religion,  se  passerent  sans  qu'elle  y  prit  jamais  la  moindrs 
part.  Im'branlable  dans  sa  foi,  elle  ne  fut  pas  moins  invaria- 
ble dans  son  systeme  de  tolerance.  Non  seulement  ses  sujets 
de  la  religion  grecque  conserverent  1'exercise  de  leur  culte, 
leurs  eveques  et  leurs  pretres ;  mais  les  Protestautes,  les 
Armeniens,  les  Mahomitans,  les  Juifs,  toutes  les  religions, 
toutes  les  sectes  qui  se  trouvaient  dans  Venise,  avaient  des 
temples,  et  la  sepulture  dans  les  eglises  n'etait  point  refuse 
aux  heretiques.  Une  police  vigilante  s'appliquait  avec  le 
meme  soin  a  eteindre  les  discordes,  et  u  empecher  les  fana- 
tiques  et  les  novateurs  de  troubler  1'Etat." 

******** 

"  Si  on  considere  que  c'est  dans  un  temps  oil  presque  toutea 
les  nations  tremblaient  devant  la  puissance  pontificale,  que 
les  Venitiens  surent  tenir  leur  clerge  dans  la  dependance,  et 
braver  souvent  les  censures  ecclesiastiques  et  les  interdits, 
sans  encourir  jamais  aucun  reproche  sur  la  purete  de  leur 
foi,  on  sera  force  de  reconnaitre  que  cette  republique  avait 
devance  de  loin  les  autres  peuples  dans  cette  partie  de  la 
science  du  gouvernement.  La  fameuse  maxime, '  Siamo  vene- 
ziani,  poi  christiani,'  n'etait  qu'une  formule  energique  qui  ne 
prouvait  point  quils  voulussent  placer  1'interet  de  la  religion 
apres  celui  de  1'Etat,  mais  qui  annoncait  leur  invariable  re- 
solution de  ne  pas  souffrir  qu'un  pouvoir  etranger  portafc 
atteinte  aux  droits  de  la  republique. 

"  Dans  toute  la  durt'e  de  son  existence,  au  milieu  des  revers 
comme  dans  la  prosperite,  cet  inebranlable  gouvernement  ne 
fit  qu'une  seule  fois  des  concessions  a  la  cour  de  Rome,  et  ce 
fut  pour  detacher  le  Pape  Jules  H  de  la  ligue  de  Cambrai. 

"Jamais  il  ne  se  relacha  du  soin  de  tenir  le  clerge1  dans  une 
nullite  absolue  relativement  aux  affaires  politiques ;  on  peut 
en  juger  par  la  conduite  qu'il  tint  avec  1'ordre  religieux  le  plus 
redou table  et  le  plus  accoutume  u  s'immiscer  dans  les  secrets 
de  1'Etat  et  dans  les  intc'rets  temporels." 

The  main  points,  next  stated,  respecting  the  Jesuits  are, 
that  the  decree  which  permitted  their  establishment  in  Venice 
required  formal  renewal  every  three  years ;  that  no  Jesuit 
could  stay  in  Venice  more  than  three  years ;  that  the  slightest 


APPENDIX.  359 

disobedience  to  the  authority  of  the  government  was  instantly 
punished  by  imprisonment ;  that  no  Venetian  could  enter  the 
order  without  express  permission  from  the  government ;  that 
the  notaries  were  forbidden  to  sanction  any  testamentary  dis- 
posal of  property  to  the  Jesuits ;  finally,  that  the  heads  of 
noble  families  were  forbidden  to  permit  their  children  to  be 
educated  in  the  Jesuits'  colleges,  on  pain  of  degradation  from 
their  rank. 

Now,  let  it  be  observed  that  the  enforcement  of  absolute 
exclusion  of  the  clergy  from  the  councils  of  the  state,  dates 
exactly  from  the  period  which  I  have  marked  for  the  com- 
mencement of  the  decline  of  the  Venetian  power.  The  Ro- 
manist is  welcome  to  his  advantage  in  this  fact,  if  advantage 
it  be  ;  for  I  do  not  bring  forward  the  conduct  of  the  senate 
of  Venice,  as  Daru  does,  by  way  of  an  example  of  the  general 
science  of  government  The  Venetians  accomplished  therein 
what  we  ridiculously  call  a  separation  of  "  Church  and  State  " 
(as  if  the  State  were  not,  in  all  Christendom,  necessarily  also 
the  Church*),  but  ought  to  call  a  separation  of  lay  and  clerical 
officers.  I  do  not  point  out  this  separation  as  subject  of 
praise,  but  as  the  witness  borne  by  the  Venetians  against  the 
principles  of  the  Papacy.  If  they  were  to  blame,  in  yielding 
to  their  fear  of  the  ambitious  spirit  of  Rome  so  far  as  to  de- 
prive their  councils  of  all  religious  element,  what  excuse  are 
we  to  offer  for  the  state,  which,  with  Lords  Spiritual  of  her 
own  faith  already  in  her  senate,  permits  the  polity  of  Rome 
to  be  represented  by  lay  members  ?  To  have  sacrificed  relig- 
ion to  mistaken  policy,  or  purchased  security  with  ignominy, 
would  have  been  no  new  thing  in  the  world's  history  ;  but  to 
be  at  once  impious  and  impolitic,  and  seek  for  danger  through 
dishonor,  was  reserved  for  the  English  parliament  of  1829. 

I  am  glad  to  have  this  opportunity  of  referring  to,  and  far- 
ther enforcing,  the  note  on  this  subject  which,  not  without 
deliberation,  I  appended  to  the  "  Seven  Lamps  ; "  and  of  add- 
ing to  it  the  following  passage,  written  by  my  father  in  the 
year  1839,  and  published  in  one  of  the  journals  of  that  year; 

*  Compare  Appendix  13. 


360  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

— a  passage  remarkable  as  much  for  its  intrinsic  value,  as  foi 
having  stated,  twelve  years  ago,  truths  to  which  the  mind  of 
England  seems  but  now,  and  that  slowly,  awakening. 

"  We  hear  it  said,  that  it  cannot  be  merely  the  Roman  re- 
ligion that  causes  the  difficulty  [respecting  Ireland],  for  we 
were  once  all  Roman  Catholics,  and  nations  abroad  of  this 
faith  are  not  as  the  Irish.  It  is  totally  overlooked,  that  when 
we  were  so,  our  government  was  despotic,  and  fit  to  cope  with 
this  dangerous  religion,  as  most  of  the  Continental  govern- 
ments yet  are.  In  what  Roman  Catholic  state,  or  in  what  age 
of  Roman  Catholic  England,  did  we  ever  hear  of  such  agitation 
as  now  exists  in  Ireland  by  evil  men  taking  advantage  of  an 
anomalous  state  of  things — Roman  Catholic  ignorance  in  the 
people,  Protestant  toleration  in  the  government  ?  We  have 
yet  to  feel  the  tremendous  difficulty  in  which  Roman  Catholic 
emancipation  has  involved  us.  Too  late  we  discover  that  a 
Roman  Catholic  is  wholly  incapable  of  being  safely  connected 
with  the  British  constitution,  as  it  now  exists,  in  any  near  re- 
lation. The  present  constitution  is  no  longer  fit  for  Catholics. 
It  is  a  creature  essentially  Protestant,  growing  with  the  growth, 
and  strengthening  with  the  strength,  of  Protestantism.  So 
entirely  is  Protestantism  interwoven  with  the  whole  frame  of 
our  constitution  and  laws,  that  I  take  my  stand  on  this,  against 
all  agitators  in  existence,  that  the  Roman  religion  is  totally 
incompatible  with  the  British  constitution.  We  have,  in  try- 
ing to  combine  them,  got  into  a  maze  of  difficulties  ;  we  are 
the  worse,  and  Ireland  none  the  better.  It  is  idle  to  talk  of 
municipal  reform  or  popular  Lords  Lieutenant.  The  mild 
sway  of  a  constitutional  monarchy  is  not  strong  enough  for  a 
Roman  Catholic  population.  The  stern  soul  of  a  Republican 
would  not  shrink  from  sending  half  the  misguided  population 
and  all  the  priests  into  exile,  and  planting  in  their  place  an 
industrious  Protestant  people.  But  you  cannot  do  this,  and 
you  cannot  convert  the  Irish,  nor  by  other  means  make  them 
fit  to  wear  the  mild  restraints  of  a  Protestant  Government. 
It  was,  moreover,  a  strange  logic  that  begot  the  idea  of  ad- 
mitting Catholics  to  administer  any  part  of  our  laws  or  consti- 
tution. It  was  admitted  by  all  that,  by  the  very  act  of  abaa- 


APPENDIX.  361 

doning  the  Roman  religion,  we  became  a  free  and  enlightened 
people.  It  was  only  by  throwing  off  the  yoke  of  that  slavish 
religion  that  we  attained  to  the  freedom  of  thought  which  has 
advanced  us  in  the  scale  of  society.  We  are  so  much  advanced 
by  adopting  and  adhering  to  a  reformed  religion,  that  to  prove 
pur  liberal  and  unprejudiced  views,  we  throw  down  the  bar- 
riers betwixt  the  two  religions,  of  which  the  one  is  the  ac- 
knowledged cause  of  light  and  knowledge,  the  other  the  cause 
of  darkness  and  ignorance.  We  are  so  much  altered  to  the 
better  by  leaving  this  people  entirely,  and  giving  them  neither 
part  nor  lot  amongst  us,  that  it  becomes  proper  to  mingle 
again  with  them.  We  have  found  so  much  good  in  leaving 
them,  that  we  deem  it  the  best  possible  reason  for  returning 
to  be  among  them.  No  fear  of  their  Church  again  shaking 
us,  with  all  our  light  and  knowledge.  It  is  true,  the  most 
enlightened  nations  fell  under  the  spell  of  her  enchantments, 
fell  into  total  darkness  and  superstition  ;  but  no  fear  of  us — 
we  are  too  well  informed !  What  miserable  reasoning  !  infat- 
uated presumption  !  I  fear  me,  when  the  Roman  religion 
rolled  her  clouds  of  darkness  over  the  earlier  ages,  that  she 
quenched  as  much  light,  and  knowledge,  and  judgment  as 
our  modern  Liberals  have  ever  displayed.  I  do  not  expect  a 
statesman  to  discuss  the  point  of  Transubstantiation  betwixt 
Protestant  and  Catholic,  nor  to  trace  the  narrow  lines  which 
divide  Protestant  sectarians  from  each  other ;  but  can  any 
statesman  that  shall  have  taken  even  a  cursory  glance  at  the 
face  of  Europe,  hesitate  a  moment  on  the  choice  of  the  Prot- 
estant religion  ?  If  he  unfortunately  knew  nothing  of  its  be- 
ing the  true  one  in  regard  to  our  eternal  interests,  he  is  at 
least  bound  to  see  whether  it  be  not  the  best  for  the  worldly 
prosperity  of  a  people.  He  may  be  but  moderately  imbued 
with  pious  zeal  for  the  salvation  of  a  kingdom,  but  at  least  he 
will  be  expected  to  weigh  the  comparative  merits  of  religion, 
as  of  law  or  government ;  and  blind,  indeed,  must  he  be  if  he 
does  not  discern  that,  in  neglecting  to  cherish  the  Protestant 
faith,  or  in  too  easily  yielding  to  any  encroachments  on  it,  he 
is  foregoing  the  use  of  a  state  engine  more  powerful  than  all 
the  laws  which  the  uninspired  legislators  of  the  earth  have 


862  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

ever  promulgated,  in  promoting  the  happiness,  the  peace, 
prosperity,  and  the  order,  the  industry,  and  the  wealth,  of  a 
people  ;  in  forming  every  quality  valuable  or  desirable  in  a 
subject  or  a  citizen ;  in  sustaining  the  public  mind  at  that 
point  of  education  and  information  that  forms  the  best  se- 
curity for  the  state,  and  the  best  preservative  for  the  freedom 
of  a  people,  whether  religious  or  political." 

6.    RENAISSANCE    ORNAMENTS. 

There  having  been  three  principal  styles  of  architecture  in 
Venice, — the  Greek  or  Byzantine,  the  Gothic,  and  the  Renais- 
sance, it  will  be  shown,  in  the  sequel,  that  the  Renaissance 
itself  is  divided  into  three  correspondent  f  amilies  :  Renaissance 
engrafted  on  Byzantine,  which  is  earliest  and  best ;  Renais- 
sance engrafted  on  Gothic,  which  is  second,  and  second  best ; 
Renaissance  on  Renaissance,  which  is  double  darkness,  and 
worst  of  all  The  palaces  in  which  Renaissance  is  engrafted 
on  Byzantine  are  those  noticed  by  Commynes  :  they  are  char- 
acterized by  an  ornamentation  very  closely  resembling,  and 
in  some  cases  identical  with,  early  Byzantine  work  ;  namely, 
groups  of  colored  marble  circles  inclosed  in  interlacing  bands. 
I  have  put  on  the  opposite  page  one  of  these  ornaments,  from 
the  Ca'  Trevisan,  in  which  a  most  curious  and  delicate  piece 
of  inlaid  design  is  introduced  into  a  band  which  is  almost  ex- 
actly copied  from  the  church  of  Theotocos  at  Constantinople, 
and  correspondent  with  others  in  St.  Mark's.  There  is  also 
much  Byzantine  feeling  in  the  treatment  of  the  animals,  es- 
pecially in  the  two  birds  of  the  lower  compartment,  while  the 
peculiar  curves  of  the  cinque  cento  leafage  are  visible  in  the 
leaves  above.  The  dove,  alighted,  with  the  olive-branch 
plucked  off,  is  opposed  to  the  raven  with  restless  expanded 
wings.  Beneath  are  evidently  the  two  sacrifices  "of  every 
clean  fowl  and  of  every  clean  beast."  The  color  is  given  with 
green  and  white  marbles,  the  dove  relieved  on  a  ground  of 
grayish  green,  and  all  is  exquisitely  finished. 

In  Plate  L,  p.  27,  the  upper  figure  is  from  the  same  palace 
(Oa*  Trevisan),  and  it  is  very  interesting  in  its  proportions.  If 


APPENDIX.  363 

we  take  five  circles  in  geometrical  proportion,  each  diameter 
being  two-thirds  of  the  diameter  next  above  it,  and  arrange 
the  circles  so  proportioned,  in  contact  with  each  other,  in  the 
manner  shown  in  the  plate,  we  shall  find  that  an  increase  quite 
imperceptible  in  the  diameter  of  the  circles  in  the  angles, 
will  enable  us  to  inscribe  the  whole  in  a  square.  The  lines  so 
described  will  then  run  in  the  centre  of  the  white  bands.  I 
cannot  be  certain  that  this  is  the  actual  construction  of  the 
Trevisan  design,  because  it  is  on  a  high  wall  surface,  where  I 
could  not  get  at  its  measurements  ;  but  I  found  this  construc- 
tion exactly  coincide  with  the  lines  of  my  eye  sketch.  The 
lower  figure  in  Plate  I.  is  from  the  front  of  the  Ca'  Dario,  and 
probably  struck  the  eye  of  Commynes  in  its  first  brightness. 
Salvatico,  indeed,  considers  both  the  Ca'  Trevisan  (which  once 
belonged  to  Bianca  Cappello)  and  the  Ca'  Dario,  as  buildings 
of  the  sixteenth  century.  I  defer  the  discussion  of  the  ques- 
tion at  present,  but  have,  I  believe,  sufficient  reason  for  as- 
suming the  Ca'  Dario  to  have  been  built  about  1486,  and  the 
Ca'  Trevisan  not  much  later. 

7.    VARIETIES   OF    THE   ORDERS. 

Of  these  phantasms  and  grotesques,  one  of  some  general  im- 
portance is  that  commonly  called  Ionic,  of  which  the  idea  was 
taken  (Vitruvius  says)  from  a  woman's  hair,  curled ;  but  its 
lateral  processes  look  more  like  rams'  horns  :  be  that  as  it  may, 
it  is  a  mere  piece  of  agreeable  extravagance,  and  if,  instead  of 
rams'  horns,  you  put  ibex  horns,  or  cows'  horns,  or  an  ass's 
head  at  once,  you  will  have  ibex  orders,  or  ass  orders,  or  any 
number  of  other  orders,  one  for  every  head  or  horn.  You 
may  have  heard  of  another  order,  the  Composite,  which  is 
Ionic  and  Corinthian  mixed,  and  is  one  of  the  worst  of  ten 
thousand  forms  referable  to  the  Corinthian  as  their  head  :  it 
may  be  described  as  a  spoiled  Corinthian.  And  you  may  have 
also  heard  of  another  order,  called  Tuscan  (which  is  no  order 
at  all,  but  a  spoiled  Doric)  :  and  of  another  called  Koman 
Doric,  which  is  Doric  more  spoiled,  both  which  are  simply 
among  the  most  stupid  variations  ever  invented  upon  forma 


864  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

already  known.  I  find  also  in  a  French  pamphlet  upon  archi- 
tecture,* as  applied  to  shops  and  dwelling  houses,  a  sixth 
order,  the  "Ordre  Fransais,"  at  least  as  good  as  any  of  the 
three  last,  and  to  be  hailed  with  acclamation,  considering 
whence  it  comes,  there  being  usually  more  tendency  on  the 
other  side  of  the  channel  to  the  confusion  of  "  orders  "  than 
their  multiplication :  but  the  reader  will  find  in  the  end  that 
there  are  in  very  deed  only  two  orders,  of  which  the  Greek, 
Doric,  and  Corinthian  are  the  first  examples,  and  they  not 
perfect,  nor  in  anywise  sufficiently  representative  of  the  vast 
families  to  which  they  belong ;  but  being  the  first  and  the 
best  known,  they  may  properly  be  considered  as  the  types  of 
the  rest.  The  essential  distinctions  of  the  two  great  orders 
he  will  find  explained  in  §§  xxxv.  and  XXXVL  of  Chap.  XXVII., 
and  in  the  passages  there  referred  to  ;  but  I  should  rather  de- 
sire that  these  passages  might  be  read  in  the  order  in  which 
they  occur. 

8.  THE  NORTHERN  ENERGY. 

I  have  sketched  above,  in  the  First  Chapter,  the  great  events 
of  architectural  history  in  the  simplest  and  fewest  words  I 
could  ;  but  this  indraught  of  the  Lombard  energies  upon  the 
Byzantine  rest,  like  a  wild  north  wind  descending  into  a  space 
of  ratified  atmosphere,  and  encountered  by  an  Arab  simoom 
from  the  south,  may  well  require  from  us  some  farther  atten- 
tion ;  for  the  differences  in  all  these  schools  are  more  in  the 
degrees  of  their  impetuosity  and  refinement  (these  qualities 
being,  in  most  cases,  in  inverse  ratio,  yet  much  united  by  the 
Arabs)  than  in  the  style  of  the  ornaments  they  employ.  The 
same  leaves,  the  same  animals,  the  same  arrangements,  are 
used  by  Scandinavians,  ancient  Britons,  Saxons,  Normans, 

*  L' Artiste  en  Batiments,  par  Louis  Berteaux :  Dijon,  1848.  My 
printer  writes  at  the  side  of  the  page  a  note,  which  I  insert  with  thanks : 
— "  This  is  not  the  first  attempt  at  a  French  order.  The  writer  has  a 
Treatise  by  Sebastian  Le  Clerc,  a  great  man  in  his  generation  which  con- 
tains a  Roman  order,  a  Spanish  order,  which  the  inventor  appears  te 
think  very  grand,  and  a  new  French  order  nationalised  by  the  Qallia 
cock  crowing  and  clapping  its  wings  iii  the  capital." 


APPENDIX.  365 

\. 

Lombards,  Romans,  Byzantines,  and  Arabians  ;  all  being  alike 
descended  through  classic  Greece  from  Egypt  and  Assyria, 
and  some  from  Phoenicia.  The  belts  which  encompass  the 
Assyrian  bulls,  in  the  hall  of  the  British  Museum,  are  the 
same  as  the  belts  of  the  ornaments  found  in  Scandinavian 
tumuli ;  their  method  of  ornamentation  is  the  same  as  that  of 
the  gate  of  Mycenae,  and  of  the  Lombard  pulpit  of  St.  Am- 
brogio  of  Milan,  and  of  the  church  of  Theotocos  at  Constanti- 
nople ;  the  essential  differences  among  the  great  schools  are 
their  differences  of  temper  and  treatment,  and  science  of  ex- 
pression ;  it  is  absurd  to  talk  of  Norman  ornaments,  and 
Lombard  ornaments,  and  Byzantine  ornaments,  as  formally 
distinguished  ;  but  there  is  irreconcileable  separation  between 
Arab  temper,  and  Lombard  temper,  and  Byzantine  temper. 

Now,  as  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  compare  the  three 
schools,  it  appears  to  me  that  the  Arab  and  Lombard  are  both 
distinguished  from  the  Byzantine  by  their  energy  and  love  of 
excitement,  but  the  Lombard  stands  alone  in  his  love  of  jest : 
Neither  an  Arab  nor  Byzantine  ever  jests  in  his  architecture  ; 
the  Lombard  has  great  difficulty  in  ever  being  thoroughly 
serious  ;  thus  they  represent  three  conditions  of  humanity, 
one  in  perfect  rest,  the  Byzantine,  with  exquisite  perception 
of  grace  and  dignity ;  the  Arab,  with  the  same  perception  of 
grace,  but  with  a  restless  fever  in  his  blood  ;  the  Lombard, 
equally  energetic,  but  not  burning  himself  away,  capable  of 
submitting  to  law,  and  of  enjoying  jest.  But  the  Arabian 
feverishness  infects  even  the  Lombard  in  the  South,  showing 
itself,  however,  in  endless  invention,  with  a  refreshing  firmness 
and  order  directing  the  whole  of  it.  The  excitement  is  great- 
est in  the  earliest  times,  most  of  all  shown  in  St.  Michele  of 
Pavia  ;  and  I  am  strongly  disposed  to  connect  much  of  its 
peculiar  manifestations  with  the  Lombard's  habits  of  eating 
and  drinking,  especially  his  carnivorousness.  The  Lombard 
of  early  times  seems  to  have  been  exactly  what  a  tiger  would 
be,  if  you  could  give  him  love  of  a  joke,  vigorous  imagination, 
strong  sense  of  justice,  fear  of  hell,  knowledge  of  northern 
mythology  a  stone  den,  and  a  mallet  and  chisel ;  fancy  him 
pacing  up  and  down  in  the  said  den  to  digest  his  dinner,  and 


THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

striking  on  the  wall,  with  a  new  fancy  in  his  head,  at  every 
turn,  and  you  have  the  Lombardic  sculptor.  As  civilisation 
increases  the  supply  of  vegetables,  and  shortens  that  of  wild 
beasts,  the  excitement  diminishes ;  it  is  still  strong  in  the 
thirteenth  century  at  Lyons  and  Rouen  ;  it  dies  away  gradu- 
ally in  the  later  Gothic,  and  is  quite  extinct  in  the  fifteenth 
century. 

I  think  I  shall  best  illustrate  this  general  idea  by  simply 
copying  the  entries  in  my  diary  which  were  written  when, 
after  six  months'  close  study  of  Byzantine  work  in  Venice,  I 
came  again  to  the  Lombard  work  of  Verona  and  Pavia.  There 
are  some  other  points  alluded  to  in  these  entries  not  pertain- 
ing to  the  matter  immediately  in  hand  ;  but  I  have  left  them, 
as  they  will  be  of  use  hereafter 

"  (Verona.)  Comparing  the  arabesque  and  sculpture  of  the 
Duomo  here  with  St.  Mark's,  the  first  thing  that  strikes  one 
is  the  low  relief,  the  second,  the  greater  motion  and  spirit, 
with  infinitely  less  grace  and  science.  With  the  Byzantine, 
however  rude  the  cutting,  every  line  is  lovely,  and  the  animals 
or  men  are  placed  in  any  attitudes  which  secure  ornamental 
effect,  sometimes  impossible  ones,  always  severe,  restrained, 
or  languid.  With  the  Romanesque  workmen  all  the  figures 
show  the  effort  (often  successful)  to  express  energetic  action  i 
hunting  chiefly,  much  fighting,  and  both  spirited  ;  some  of  the 
dogs  running  capitally,  straining  to  it,  and  the  knights  hitting 
hard,  while  yet  the  faces  and  drawing  are  in  the  last  degree 
barbarous.  At  Venice  all  is  graceful,  fixed,  or  languid  ;  the 
eastern  torpor  is  in  every  line, — the  mark  of  a  school  formed 
on  severe  traditions,  and  keeping  to  them,  and  never  likely  or 
desirous  to  rise  beyond  them,  but  with  an  exquisite  sense  of 
beauty,  and  much  solemn  religious  faith. 

"  If  the  Greek  outer  archivolt  of  St.  Mark's  is  Byzantine,  the 
law  is  somewhat  broken  by  its  busy  domesticity  ;  figures  en- 
gaged in  every  trade,  and  in  the  preparation  of  -dands  of  all 
kinds ;  a  crowded  kind  of  London  Christmas  scene,  inter- 
leaved (literally)  by  the  superb  balls  of  leafage,  unique  in 
sculpture  ;  but  even  this  is  strongly  opposed  to  the  wild  war 
and  chase  passion  of  the  Lombard.  Farther,  the  Lombard 


APPENDIX.  367 

building  is  as  sharp,  precise,  and  accurate,  as  that  of  St. 
Mark's  is  careless.  The  Byzantines  seem  to  have  been  too 
lazy  to  put  their  stones  together  ;  and,  in  general,  my  first 
impression  on  coming  to  Yerona,  after  four  months  in  Venice, 
is  of  the  exquisitely  neat  masonry  and  perfect  feeling  here  ;  a 
style  of  Gothic  formed  by  a  combination  of  Lombard  surface 
ornament  with  Pisan  Gothic,  than  which  nothing  can  possibly 
be  more  chaste,  pure,  or  solemn." 

I  have  said  much  of  the  shafts  of  the  entrance  to  the  crypt 
of  St.  Zeno  ;  *  the  following  note  of  the  sculptures  on  the 
archivolt  above  them  is  to  our  present  purpose  : 

"  It  is  covered  by  very  light  but  most  effective  bas-reliefs  of 
jesting  subject : — two  cocks  carrying  on  their  shoulders  a  long 
staff  to  which  a  fox  (?)  is  tied  by  the  legs,  hanging  down  be- 
tween them  :  the  strut  of  the  foremost  cock,  lifting  one  leg  at 
right  angles  to  the  other,  is  delicious.  Then  a  stag  hunt,  with 
a  centaur  horseman  drawing  a  bow  ;  the  arrow  has  gone  clear 
through  the  stag's  throat,  and  is  sticking  there.  Several  capi- 
tal hunts  with  dogs,  with  fruit  trees  between,  and  birds  in 
them  ;  the  leaves,  considering  the  early  time,  singularly  well 
set,  with  the  edges  outwards,  sharp,  and  deep  cut :  snails  and 
frogs  filling  up  the  intervals,  as  if  suspended  in  the  air,  with 
some  saucy  puppies  on  their  hind  legs,  two  or  three  nonde- 
script beasts ;  and,  finally,  on  the  centre  of  one  of  the  arches 
on  the  south  side,  an  elephant  and  castle, — a  very  strange  ele- 
phant, yet  cut  as  if  the  carver  had  seen  one. 

Observe  this  elephant  and  castle  ;  we  shall  meet  with  him 
farther  north. 

"  These  sculptures  of  St.  Zeno  are,  however,  quite  quiet  and 
tame  compared  with  those  of  St.  Michele  of  Pavia,  which  are 
designed  also  in  a  somewhat  gloomier  mood  ;  significative,  as  I 
think,  of  indigestion.  (Note  that  they  are  much  earlier  than 
St.  Zeno  ;  of  the  seventh  century  at  latest.  There  is  more  of 
nightmare,  and  less  of  wit  in  them.)  Lord  Lindsay  has  de- 
scribed them  admirably,  but  has  not  said  half  enough  ;  the 
state  of  mind  represented  by  the  west  front  ig  more  that  of  a 


THE  STONES  OF  VENICE'. 

feverish  dream,  than  resultant  from  any  determined  architect* 
ural  purpose,  or  even  from  any  definite  love  and  delight  in 
the  grotesque.  One  capital  is  covered  with  a  mass  of  grinning 
heads,  other  heads  grow  out  of  two  bodies,  or  out  of  and  under 
feet ;  the  creatures  are  all  fighting,  or  devouring,  or  struggling 
which  shall  be  uppermost,  and  yet  in  an  ineffectual  way,  as  if 
they  would  fight  for  ever,  and  come  to  no  decision.  Neither 
sphinxes  nor  centaurs  did  I  notice,  nor  a  single  peacock  (I  be- 
lieve peacocks  to  be  purely  Byzantine),  but  mermaids  with  two 
tails  (the  sculptor  having  perhaps  seen  double  at  the  time), 
strange,  large  fish,  apes,  stags  (bulls?),  dogs,  wolves,  and 
horses,  griffins,  eagles,  long-tailed  birds  (cocks  ?),  hawks,  and 
dragons,  without  end,  or  with  a  dozen  of  ends,  as  the  case  may 
be  ;  smaller  birds,  with  rabbits,  and  small  nondescripts,  filling 
the  friezes.  The  actual  leaf,  which  is  used  in  the  best  Byzan- 
tine mouldings  at  Venice,  occurs  in  parts  of  these  Pavian  de- 
signs. But  the  Lombard  animals  are  all  alive,  and  fiercely 
alive  too,  all  impatience  and  spring  :  the  Byzantine  birds  peck 
idly  at  the  fruit,  and  the  animals  hardly  touch  it  with  their 
noses.  The  cinque  cento  birds  in  Venice  hold  it  up  daintily, 
like  train-bearers ;  the  birds  in  the  earlier  Gothic  peck  at  it 
hungrily  and  naturally ;  but  the  Lombard  beasts  gripe  at  it 
like  tigers,  and  tear  it  off  with  writhing  lips  and  glaring  eyes. 
They  are  exactly  like  Jip  with  the  bit  of  geranium,  wor- 
rying imaginary  cats  in  it." 

The  notice  of  the  leaf  in  the  above  extract  is  important, — it 
is  the  vine-leaf  ;  used  constantly  both  by  Byzantines  and  Lom- 
bards, but  by  the  latter  with  especial  frequency,  though  at 
this  time  they  were  hardly  able  to  indicate  what  they  meant. 
It  forms  the  most  remarkable  generality  of  the  St.  Michele 
decoration  ;  though,  had  it  not  luckily  been  carved  on  the 
facade,  twining  round  a  stake,  and  with  grapes,  I  should  never 
have  known  what  it  was  meant  for,  its  general  form  being  a 
succession  of  sharp  lobes,  with  incised  furrows  to  the  point  of 
each.  But  it  is  thrown  about  in  endless  change  ;  four  or  five 
varieties  of  it  might  be  found  on  every  cluster  of  capitals :  and 
not  content  with  this,  the  Lombards  hint  the  same  form  even 
in  their  griffin  winga  They  love  the  vine  very  heartily. 


PLATE  XXL— WALL- VEIL  DECORATION. 


APPENDIX.  369 

In  St.  Michele  of  Lucca  we  have  perhaps  the  noblest  instance 
in  Italy  of  the  Lombard  spirit  in  its  later  refinement.  It  is 
some  four  centuries  later  than  St.  Michele  of  Pavia,  and  the 
method  of  workmanship  is  altogether  different.  In  the  Paviau 
church,  nearly  all  the  ornament  is  cut  in  a  coarse  sandstone., 
in  bold  relief  :  a  darker  and  harder  stone  (I  think,  not  serpen- 
tine, but  its  surface  is  so  disguised  by  the  lustre  of  ages  that 
I  could  not  be  certain)  is  used  for  the  capitals  of  the  western 
door,  which  are  especially  elaborate  in  their  sculpture  ; — two 
devilish  apes,  or  apish  devils,  I  know  not  which,  with  brietb/ 
moustaches  and  edgy  teeth,  half-crouching,  with  their  hands 
impertinently  on  their  knees,  ready  for  a  spit  or  a  spring  if 
one  goes  near  them  ;  but  all  is  pure  bossy  sculpture  ;  there  is 
no  inlaying,  except  of  some  variegated  tiles  in  the  shape  of 
saucers  set  concave  (an  ornament  used  also  very  gracefully  in 
St.  Jacopo  of  Bologna) :  and  the  whole  surface  of  the  church 
is  enriched  with  the  massy  reliefs,  well  preserved  everywhere 
above  the  reach  of  human  animals,  but  utterly  destroyed  to 
some  five  or  six  feet  from  the  ground  ;  worn  away  into  large 
cellular  hollows  and  caverns,  some  almost  deep  enough  to  ren- 
der the  walls  unsafe,  entirely  owing  to  the  uses  to  which  the 
recesses  of  the  church  are  dedicated  by  the  refined  and  high- 
minded  Italians.  But  St.  Michele  of  Lucca  is  wrought  en- 
tirely in  white  marble  and  green  serpentine  ;  there  is  hardly 
any  relieved  sculpture  except  in  the  capitals  of  the  shafts  and 
cornices,  and  all  the  designs  of  wall  ornament  are  inlaid  with 
exquisite  precision — white  on  dark  ground  ;  the  ground  being 
cut  out  and  filled  with  serpentine,  the  figures  left  in  solid 
marble.  The  designs  of  the  Pavian  church  are  encrusted  on 
the  walls  ;  of  the  Lucchese,  incorporated  with  them ;  small 
portions  of  real  sculpture  being  introduced  exactly  where  the 
eye,  after  its  rest  on  the  flatness  of  the  wall,  will  take  most 
delight  in  the  piece  of  substantial  form.  The  entire  arrange- 
ment is  perfect  beyond  all  praise,  and  the  morbid  restlessness 
of  the  old  designs  is  now  appeased.  Geometry  seems  to  have 
acted  as  a  febrifuge,  for  beautiful  geometrical  designs  are  in- 
troduced amidst  the  tumult  of  the  hunt ;  and  there  is  no  more 
seeing  double,  nor  ghastly  monstrosity  of  conception ;  no  more 
Stones  of  Venice— Vol.  I.— 17 


370         THE  STONES  OF  VEN1C& 

ending  of  everything  in  something  else  ;  no  more  disputing 
for  spare  legs  among  bewildered  bodies  ;  no  more  setting  on 
of  heads  wrong  side  foremost.  The  fragments  have  come 
together :  we  are  out  of  the  Inferno  with  its  weeping  dowk 
the  spine  ;  we  are  in  the  fair  hunting-fields  of  the  Lucchese 
mountains  (though  they  had  their  tears  also), — with  horse, 
and  hound,  and  hawk  ;  and  merry  blast  of  the  trumpet. — Very 
strange  creatures  to  be  hunted,  in  all  truth  ;  but  still  creatures 
with  a  single  head,  and  that  on  their  shoulders,  which  is  ex- 
actly the  last  place  in  the  Pavian  church  where  a  head  is  to  be 
looked  for. 

My  good  friend  Mr.  Cockerell  wonders,  in  one  of  his  lect- 
ures, why  I  give  so  much  praise  to  this  "  crazy  front  of 
Lucca."  But  it  is  not  crazy  ;  not  by  any  meana  Altogether 
sober,  in  comparison  with  the  early  Lombard  work,  or  with 
our  Norman.  Crazy  in  one  sense  it  is  :  utterly  neglected,  to 
the  breaking  of  its  old  stout  heart ;  the  venomous  nights  and 
salt  frosts  of  the  Maremma  winters  have  their  way  with  it — 
"  Poor  Tom's  a  cold  !  "  The  weeds  that  feed  on  the  marsh 
air,  have  twisted  themselves  into  its  crannies  ;  the  polished 
fragments  of  serpentine  are  split  and  rent  out  of  their  cells, 
and  lie  in  green  ruins  along  its  ledges ;  the  salt  sea  winds 
have  eaten  away  ths  fair  shafting  of  its  star  window  into  a 
skeleton  of  crumbling  rays.  It  cannot  stand  much  longer ; 
may  Heaven  only,  in  its  benignity,  preserve  it  from  restore 
tion,  and  the  sands  of  the  Serchio  give  it  honorable  grave. 

In  the  "Seven  Lamps,"  Plate  VI.,  I  gave  a  faithful  drawing 
of  one  of  its  upper  arches,  to  which  I  must  refer  the  reader  ; 
for  there  is  a  marked  piece  of  character  in  the  figure  of  the 
horseman  on  the  left  of  it.  And  in  making  this  reference,  ) 
would  say  a  few  words  about  those  much  abused  plates  of  the 
"Seven  Lamps."  They  are  black,  they  are  overbitten,  they 
are  hastily  drawn,  they  are  coarse  and  disagreeable  ;  how  dis- 
agreeable to  many  readers  I  venture  not  to  conceive.  Bui 
their  truth  is  carried  to  an  extent  never  before  attempted  in 
architectural  drawing.  It  does  not  in  the  least  follow  that 
because  a  drawing  is  delicate,  or  looks  careful,  it  hag  been 
carefully  drawn  from  the  thing  represented  ;  in  nine  instancei 


APPENDIX,  371 

out  of  ten,  careful  and  delicate  drawings  are  made  at  home. 
It  is  not  so  easy  as  the  reader,  perhaps,  imagines,  to  finish  a 
drawing  altogether  on  the  spot,  especially  of  details  seventy 
feet  from  the  ground  ;  and  any  one  who  will  try  the  position 
in  which  I  have  had  to  do  some  of  my  work — standing, 
namely,  on  a  cornice  or  window  sill,  holding  by  one  arm 
round  a  shaft,  and  hanging  over  the  street  (or  canal,  at  Ven- 
ice), with  my  sketch-book  supported  against  the  wall  from 
wbich  I  was  drawing,  by  my  breast,  so  as  to  leave  my  right 
hand  free — will  not  thenceforward  wonder  that  shadows 
should  be  occasionally  carelessly  laid  in,  or  lines  drawn  with 
some  unsteadiness.  But,  steady,  or  infirm,  the  sketches  of 
which  those  plates  in  the  "  Seven  Lamps  "  are  fac-similes,  were 
made  from  the  architecture  itself,  and  represent  that  archi- 
tecture with  its  actual  shadows  at  the  time  of  day  at  which  it 
was  drawn,  and  with  every  fissure  and  line  of  it  as  they  now 
exist ;  so  that  when  I  am  speaking  of  some  new  point,  which 
perhaps  the  drawing  was  not  intended  to  illustrate,  I  can  yet 
turn  back  to  it  with  perfect  certainty  that  if  anything  be  found 
in  it  bearing  on  matters  now  in  hand,  I  may  depend  upon  it 
just  as  securely  as  if  I  had  gone  back  to  look  again  at  the 
building. 

It  is  necessary  that  my  readers  should  understand  this 
thoroughly,  and  I  did  not  before  sufficiently  explain  it ;  but  I 
believe  I  can  show  them  the  use  of  this  kind  of  truth,  now 
that  we  are  again  concerned  with  this  front  of  Lucca.  They 
will  find  a  drawing  of  the  entire  front  in  Gaily  Knight's  "  Ar- 
chitecture of  Italy."  It  may  serve  to  give  them  an  idea  of  its 
general  disposition,  and  it  looks  very  careful  and  accurate ; 
but  every  bit  of  the  ornament  on  it  is  drawn  out  of  the  artisft 
head.  There  is  not  one  line  of  it  that  exists  on  the  building. 
The  reader  will  therefore,  perhaps,  think  my  ugly  black  plate 
of  somewhat  more  value,  upon  the  whole,  in  its  rough  veracity, 
than  the  other  in  its  delicate  fiction.* 

*  One  of  tne  upper  stories  is  also  in  Gaily  "Knlght'a  plate  represented 
ae  merely  banded,  and  otherwise  plaiu  :  it  is,  in  reality,  covered  witt 
AS  delicate  inlaying  as  the  rest.  The  whole  front  is  besides  out  of  pro- 
portion, Mid  out  Oi  perspective,  at  ones ;  and  y«t  this  work  i»  referred 


372  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

As,  however,  I  made  a  drawing  of  another  part  of  the  church 
somewhat  more  delicately,  and  as  I  do  not  choose  that  my 
favorite  church  should  suffer  in  honor  by  my  coarse  work,  I 
have  had  this,  as  far  as  might  be,  fac-similied  by  line  engrav- 
ing (Plate  XXI.).  It  represents  the  southern  side  of  the 
lower  arcade  of  the  west  front ;  and  may  convey  some  idea  ol 
the  exquisite  finish  and  grace  of  the  whole  ;  but  the  old  plate, 
in  the  "  Seven  Lamps,"  gives  a  nearer  view  of  one  of  the  up- 
per arches,  and  a  more  faithful  impression  of  the  present 
aspect  of  the  work,  and  especially  of  the  seats  of  the  horse- 
men ;  the  limb  straight,  and  well  down  on  the  stirrup  (the 
warrior's  seat,  observe,  not  the  jockey's),  with  a  single  pointed 
spur  on  the  heeL  The  bit  of  the  lower  cornice  under  thic 
arch  I  could  not  see,  and  therefore  had  not  drawn  ;  it  wai 
supplied  from  beneath  another  arch.  I  am  afraid,  however, 
the  reader  has  lost  the  thread  of  my  story  while  I  have  been 
recommending  my  veracity  to  him.  I  was  insisting  upon  the 
healthy  tone  of  this  Lucca  work  as  compared  with  the  old 
spectral  Lombard  friezes.  The  apes  of  the  Pavian  church  ride 
without  stirrups,  but  all  is  in  good  order  and  harness  here  : 
civilisation  had  done  its  work  ;  there  was  reaping  of  corn  in 
the  Val  d'Arno,  though  rough  hunting  still  upon  its  hills.  But 
in  the  north,  though  a  century  or  two  later,  we  find  the  for- 
ests of  the  Ehone,  and  its  rude  limestone  cotes,  haunted  by 
phantasms  still  (more  meat-eating,  then,  I  think).  I  do  not 
know  a  more  interesting  group  of  cathedrals  than  that  of 
Lyons,  Vienne,  and  Valencia :  a  more  interesting  indeed,  gen- 
erally, than  beautiful ;  but  there  is  a  row  of  niches  on  the 
west  front  of  Lyons,  and  a  course  of  panelled  decoration  about 
its  doors,  which  is,  without  exception,  the  most  exquisite 
piece  of  Northern  Gothic  I  ever  beheld,  and  with  which  1 

to  as  of  authority,  by  onr  architects.  Well  may  our  architecture  fall 
from  its  place  among  the  fine  arts,  as  it  ia  doing  rapidly  ;  nearly  all  om 
works  of  value  being  devoted  to  the  Greek  architecture,  which  is  tttteiig 
useless  to  us— or  worse.  One  most  noble  book,  however  has  been  ded 
leated  to  our  English  abbeys,— Mr.  E.  Sharpe'8  "Architectural  Parak 
tola  "—almost  a  model  oH  what  I  should  like  to  see  done  for  the  Gothit 
ai  all 


APPENDIX.  S78 

know  nothing  that  is  even  comparable,  except  the  work  of  the 
north  transept  of  Rouen,  described  in  the  "  Seven  Lamps," 
p.  164 ;  work  of  about  the  same  date,  and  exactly  the  same 
plan  ;  quatrefoils  filled  with  grotesques,  but  somewhat  less 
finished  in  execution,  and  somewhat  less  wild  in  imagination. 
I  wrote  down  hastily,  and  in  their  own  course,  the  subjects  of 
some  of  the  quatrefoils  of  Lyons  ;  of  which  I  here  give  the 
reader  the  sequence  : — 

1.  Elephant  and  castle;  less  graphic  than  the  St.  Zeno 

one. 

2.  A  huge  head  walking  on  two  legs,  turned  backwards, 

hoofed  ;  the  head  has  a  horn  behind,  with  drapery 
over  it,  which  ends  in  another  head. 

3.  A  boar  hunt ;  the  boar  under  a  tree,  very  spirited. 

4.  A  bird  putting  its  head  between  its  legs  to  bite  its  own 

tail,  which  ends  in  a  head. 

5.  A  dragon  with  a  human  head  set  on  the  wrong  way. 

6.  Si  Peter  awakened  by  the  angel  in  prison  ;  full  of  spirit, 

the  prison  picturesque,  with  a  trefoiled  arch,  the  an- 
gel eager,  St.  Peter  startled,  and  full  of  motion. 

7.  St.  Peter  led  out  by  the  angel. 

8.  The  miraculous  draught  of  fishes ;  fish  and  all,  in  the 

small  space. 

9.  A  large  loaf,  with  two  snails  rampant,  coming  out  of 

nautilus  shells,  with  grotesque  faces,  and  eyes  at  the 
ends  of  their  horns. 

10.  A  man  with  an  axe  striking  at  a  dog's  head,  which  comes 

out  of  a  nautilus  shell :  the  rim  of  the  shell  branches 
into  a  stem  with  two  large  leaves. 

11.  Martyrdom  of  St.  Sebastian  ;  his  body  very  full  of  ar- 

rows. 

12.  Beasts  coming  to  ark  ;  Noah  opening  a  kind  of  wicker 

cage. 

13.  Noah  building  the  ark  on  shores. 

14.  A  vine  leaf  with  a  dragon's  head  and  tail,  the  one  biting 

the  other. 

15.  A  man  riding  a  goat;  catching  a  flying  devil. 


874  THE  STONES  OF  VENtCti. 

16.  An  eel  or  muraena  growing  into  a  bunch  of  flowery 

which  turns  into  two  winga 

17.  A  sprig  of  hazel,  with  nuts,   thrown  all  around   the 

quatrefoils  with  a  squirrel  in  centre,  apparently  at- 
tached to  the  tree  only  by  its  enormous  tail,  richly 
furrowed  into  hair,  and  nobly  sweeping. 

18.  Four  hares  fastened  together  by  the  ears,  galloping  in 

a  circle.  Mingled  with  these  grotesques  are  many 
sword  and  buckler  combats,  the  bucklers  being 
round  and  conical  like  a  hat ;  I  thought  the  first  I 
noticed,  carried  by  a  man  at  full  gallop  on  horseback, 
had  been  a  small  umbrella. 

This  list  of  subjects  may  sufficiently  illustrate  the  feverish 
character  of  the  Northern  Energy  ;  but  influencing  the  treat- 
ment of  the  whole  there  is  also  the  Northern  love  of  what  is 
called  the  Grotesque,  a  feeling  which  I  find  myself,  for  the 
present,  quite  incapable  either  of  analysing  or  defining,  though 
we  all  have  a  distinct  idea  attached  to  the  word  :  I  shall  try, 
however,  in  the  next  volume. 

9.    WOODEN    CHTJKCHES    OF    THE    NORTH. 

I  cannot  pledge  myself  to  this  theory  of  the  origin  of  the 
vaulting  shaft,  but  the  reader  will  find  some  interesting  con- 
firmations of  it'in  Dahl's  work  on  the  wooden  churches  of  Nor- 
way. The  inside  view  of  the  church  of  Borgund  shows  the 
timber  construction  of  one  shaft  run  up  through  a  crossing 
architrave,  and  continued  into  the  clerestory ;  while  the 
church  of  Urnes  is  in  the  exact  form  of  a  basilica ;  but  the 
wall  above  the  arches  is  formed  of  planks,  with  a  strong  up- 
right above  each  capital.  The  passage  quoted  from  Stephen 
Eddy's  Life  of  Bishop  Wilfrid,  at  p.  86  of  Churton's  "Early 
English  Church,"  gives  us  one  of  tht  transformations  of  petri- 
factions of  the  wooden  Saxon  churches.  "  At  Kipon  he  built 
a  new  church  of  polished  stone,  with  columns  variously  orna- 
mented, and  porches."  Mr.  Chui-ton  adds  :  "It  was  perhaps 
in  bad  imitation  of  the  marble  buildings  he  had  seen  in  Italy, 


APPENDIX.  375 

that  he  washed  the  walls  of  this  original  York  Minster,  and 
made  them  '  whiter  than  snow.' " 

10.  CHUKCH   OF   ALEXANDRIA. 

The  very  cause  which  enabled  the  Venetians  to  possess 
themselves  of  the  body  of  St.  Mark,  was  the  destruction  of  the 
church  by  the  caliph  for  the  sake  of  its  marbles  :  the  Arabs  and 
Venetians,  though  bitter  enemies,  thus  building  on  the  same 
models ;  these  in  reverence  for  the  destroyed  church,  and 
those  with  the  very  pieces  of  it.  In  the  somewhat  prolix  ac- 
count of  the  matter  given  in  the  Notizie  Storiche  (above 
quoted)  the  main  points  are,  that  "  il  Califa  de'  Saraceni,  per 
fabbricarsi  un  Palazzo  presse  di  Babilonia,  aveva  ordinato  che 
dalle  Ghiese  d'  Cristiani  si  togliessero  i  pitl  scelti  marmi ;" 
and  that  the  Venetians,  "  videro  sotto  i  loro  occhi  flagellarsi 
crudelmente  un  Cristiano  per  aver  infranto  un  marmo."  I 
heartily  wish  that  the  same  kind  of  punishment  were  enforced 
to  this  day,  for  the  same  sin. 

11.  RENAISSANCE   LANDSCAPE. 

I  am  glad  here  to  re-assert  opinions  which  it  has  grieved 
me  to  be  suspected  of  having  changed.  The  calmer  tone  of 
the  second  volume  of  "Modern  Painters,"  as  compared  with 
the  first,  induced,  I  believe,  this  suspicion,  very  justifiably,  in 
the  minds  of  many  of  its  readers.  The  difference  resulted, 
however,  from  the  simple  fact,  that  the  first  was  written  in 
great  haste  and  indignation,  for  a  special  purpose  and  time ; 
— the  second,  after  I  had  got  engaged,  almost  unawares,  in 
inquiries  which  could  not  be  hastily  nor  indignantly  pursued  ; 
my  opinions  remaining  then,  and  remaining  now,  altogether 
unchanged  on  the  subject  which  led  me  into  the  discussion. 
,And  that  no  farther  doubt  of  them  may  be  entertained  by  any 
who  may  think  them  worth  questioning,  I  shall  here,  once  for 
all,  express  them  in  the  plainest  and  fewest  words  I  can.  I 
think  that  J.  M.  W.  Turner  is  not  only  the  greatest  (professed) 
landscape  painter  who  ever  lived,  but  that  he  has  in  him  aa 
much  as  would  have  furnished  all  the  rest  with  such  power  aa 
they  had ;  and  that  if  we  put  Nicolo  Poussin:  Salvator  and 


S76  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

our  own  Gainsborough  out  of  the  group,  he  would  cut  up  into 
Claudes,  Cuyps,  Ruysdaels,  and  such  others,  by  uncounted 
bunches.  I  hope  this  is  plainly  and  strongly  enough  stated. 
And  farther,  I  like  his  later  pictures,  up  to  the  year  1845,  the 
best ;  and  believe  that  those  persons  who  only  like  his  early 
pictures  do  not,  in  fact,  like  him  at  all  They  do  not  like  that 
which  is  essentially  his.  They  like  that  in  which  he  resem- 
bles other  men  ;  which  he  had  learned  from  Loutherbourg, 
Claude,  or  Wilson  ;  that  which  is  indeed  his  own,  they  do  not 
care  for.  Not  that  tliere  is  not  much  of  his  own  in  his  early 
works  ;  they  are  all  invaluable  in  their  way  ;  but  those  per- 
sons who  can  find  no  beauty  in  his  strangest  fantasy  on  the 
Academy  walls,  cannot  distinguish  the  peculiarly  Turneresque 
characters  of  the  earlier  pictures.  And,  therefore,  I  again 
state  here,  that  I  think  his  pictures  painted  between  the  years 
1830  and  1845  his  greatest ;  and  that  his  entire  power  is  best 

represented  by  such  pictures  as  the 

Turner.  Tintoret.  Temeraire,  the  Sun  of  Venice  going  to 
Massaccio.  Sea,  and  others,  painted  exactly  at  the 

John  Bellini.  time  when  the  public  and  the  press 

Albert  Durer.  were  together  loudest  in  abuse  of  him. 

Giorgione.  I  desire,  however,  the  reader  to  ob- 

Paul  Veronese.  serve  that  I  said,  above,  professed 

Titian.  \  landscape  painters,  among  whom,  per- 

Rubens.  haps,  I  should  hardly  have  put  Gains- 

Correggio.  borough.  The  landscape  of  the  great 

Orcagna.  figure  painters  is  often  majestic  in  the 

Benozzo  GozzolL  highest  degree,  and  Tintoret's  espe- 

Giotto.  cially  shows  exactly  the  same  power 

Raffaelle.  and  feeling  as  Turner's.  If  with  Turner 

Perugino.  I  were  to  rank  the  historical  painters  as 

landscapists,  estimating  rather  the 

power  they  show,  than  the  actual  value  of  the  landscape  they 
produced,  I  should  class  those,  whose  landscapes  I  have 
studied,  in  some  such  order  as  this  at  the  side  of  the  page  :— 
associating  with  the  landscape  of  Perugino  that  of  Francia  and 
Angelico,  and  the  other  severe  painters  of  religious  subjects. 
I  have  put  Turner  and  Tintoret  side  by  sitie.  not  knowing 


APPENDIX.  *7T 

which  is,  in  landscape,  the  greater ;  I  had  nearly  associated 
in  the  same  manner  the  noble  names  of  John  Bellini  and  Albert 
Durer  ;  but  Bellini  must  be  put  first,  for  his  profound  religious 
peace  yet  not  separated  from  the  other,  if  but  that  we  might 
remember  his  kindness  to  him  in  Venice  ;  and  it  is  well  we 
should  take  note  of  it  here,  for  it  furnishes  us  with  a  most 
interesting  confirmation  of  what  was  said  in  the  text  respect- 
ing the  position  of  Bellini  as  the  last  of  the  religious  painters 
of  Venice.  The  following  passage  is  quoted  in  Jackson's 
"Essay  on  Wood-engraving,"  from  Albert  Durer's  Diary  : 

"I  have  many  good  friends  among  the  Italians  who  warn 
me  not  to  eat  .or  drink  with  their  painters,  of  whom  several 
are  my  enemies,  and  copy  my  picture  in  the  church,  and 
others  of  mine,  wherever  they  can  find  them,  and  yet  they 
blame  them,  and  say  they  are  not  according  to  ancient  art,  and 
therefore  not  good.  Giovanni  Bellini,  however,  has  praised  me 
highly  to  several  gentlemen,  and  wishes  to  have  something  of 
my  doing  :  he  called  on  me  himself,  and  requested  that  I 
would  paint  a  picture  for  him,  for  which,  he  said,  he  would  pay 
me  well.  People  are  all  surprised  that  I  should  be  so  much 
thought  of  by  a  person  of  his  reputation  :  he  is  very  old,  but 
is  still  the  best  painter  of  them  all." 

A  choice  little  piece  of  description  this,  of  the  Renaissance 
painters,  side  by  side  with  the  good  old  Venetian,  who  was 
soon  to  leave  them  to  their  own  ways.  The  Eenaissance  men 
are  seen  in  perfection,  envying,  stealing,  and  lying,  but  with- 
out wit  enough  to  lie  to  purpose. 

12.       ROMANIST    MODERN    ART. 

It  is  of  the  highest  importance,  in  these  days,  that  Roman- 
ism should  be  deprived  of  the  miserable  influence  which  its 
pomp  and  picturesqueness  have  given  it  over  the  weak  senti- 
mentalism  of  the  English  people  ;  I  call  it  a  miserable  influ- 
ence, for  of  all  motives  to  sympathy  with  the  Church  of  Rome, 
this  I  unhesitatingly  class  as  the  basest :  I  can,  in  some  meas- 
ure, respect  the  other  feelings  which  have  been  the  beginning* 
of  apostasy  ;  I  can  respect  the  desire  for  unity  which  would 


878  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

reclaim  the  Romanist  by  love,  and  the  distrust  of  his  own 
heart  which  subjects  the  proselyte  to  priestly  power  ;  I  say  I 
can  respect  these  feelings,  though  I  cannot  pardon  unprinci- 
pled submission  to  them,  nor  enough  wonder  at  the  infinite 
fatuity  of  the  unhappy  persons  whom  they  have  betrayed  : — 
Fatuity,  self-inflicted,  and  stubborn  in  resistance  to  God's 
Word  and  man's  reason  ! — to  talk  of  the  authority  of  the 
Church,  as  if  the  Church  were  anything  else  than  the  whole 
company  of  Christian  men,  or  were  ever  spoken  of  in  Scripture* 
as  other  than  a  company  to  be  taught  and  fed,  not  to  teach 
and  feed. — Fatuity !  to  talk  of  a  separation  of  Church  and 
State,  as  if  a  Christian  state,  and  every  officer  therein,  were 
not  necessarily  a  part  of  the  Church,  f  and  as  if  any  state 
officer  could  do  his  duty  without  endeavoring  to  aid  and  pro- 
mote religion,  or  any  clerical  officer  do  his  duty  without  seek- 
ing for  such  aid  and  accepting  it : — Fatuity !  to  seek  for  the 
unity  of  a  living  body  of  truth  and  trust  in  God,  with  a  dead 
body  of  lies  and  trust  in  wood,  and  thence  to  expect  anything 
else  than  plague,  and  consumption  by  worms  undying,  for 
both.  Blasphemy  as  well  as  fatuity  !  to  ask  for  any  better  inter- 
preter of  God's  Word  than  God,  or  to  expect  knowledge  of  it 
in  any  other  way  than  the  plainly  ordered  way  :  if  any  man 
will  DO  he  shall  KNOW.  But  of  all  these  fatuities,  the  basest  is 
the  being  lured  into  the  Romanist  Church  by  the  glitter  of  it, 
like  larks  into  a  trap  by  broken  glass  ;  to  be  blown  into  a 
change  of  religion  by  the  whine  of  an  organ-pipe  ;  stitched 
into  a  new  creed  by  gold  threads  on  priests'  petticoats  ;  jan- 
gled into  a  change  of  conscience  by  the  chimes  of  a  belfry. 

*  Except  in  the  single  passage  "tell  it  unto  the  Church,"  which  ia 
nmply  the  extension  of  what  had  been  commanded  before,  i.e.,  tell  the 
fault  first  "between  thee  and  him,"  then  taking  "  with  thee  one  or  two 
more,"  then,  to  all  Christian  men  capable  of  hearing  the  cause  :  if  he 
refuse  to  hear  their  common  voice,  "  let  him  be  unto  thee  as  a  heathen 
man  and  publican  :  "  (But  consider  how  Christ  treated  both.) 

f  One  or  two  remarks  on  this  subject,  some  of  which  I  had  intended 
to  have  inserted  here,  and  others  in  Appendix  5,  I  have  arranged  in 
more  consistent  order,  and  published  in  a  separate  pamphlet,  "Notes  o* 
the  Construction  of  Sheep-i'ohls,'  for  the  convenience  of  readers  inter 
Mted  in  other  architecture  thau  that  01  Venetian  palace*. 


APPENDIX.  375) 

>  imow  nothing  in  the  shape  of  error  so  dark  as  this,  no 
imbecility  so  absolute,  no  treachery  so  contemptible.  I  had 
hardly  believed  that  it  was  a  thing  possible,  though  vague  stories 
had  been  told  me  of  the  effect,  on  some  minds,  of  mere  scarlet 
and  candles,  until  I  came  on  this  passage  in  Pugin's  "  Remarks 
on  articles  in  the  Rambler"  : — 

"  Those  who  have  lived  in  want  and  privation  are  the  best 
qualified  to  appreciate  the  blessinge  of  plenty  ;  thus,  those 
who  have  been  devout  and  sincere  members  of  the  separated 
portion  of  the  English  Church  ;  who  have  prayed,  and  hoped, 
and  loved,  through  all  the  poverty  of  the  maimed  rites  which 
it  has  retained — to  them  does  the  realisation  of  all  their  long- 
ing desires  appear  truly  ravishing.  *  *  *  Oh  !  then,  what 
delight !  what  joy  unspeakable  !  when  one  of  the  solemn  piles 
is  presented  to  them,  in  all  its  pristine  life  and  glory  ! — the 
stoups  are  filled  to  the  brim ;  the  rood  is  raised  on  high  ;  the 
screen  glows  with  sacred  imagery  and  rich  device  ;  the  niches 
are  filled ;  the  altar  is  replaced,  sustained  by  sculptured  shafts, 
the  relics  of  the  saints  repose  beneath,  the  body  of  Our  Lord 
is  enshrined  on  its  consecrated  stone  ;  the  lamps  of  the  sanc- 
tuary burn  bright ;  the  saintly  portraitures  in  the  glass  win- 
dows shine  all  gloriously  :  and  the  albs  hang  in  the  oaken 
ambries,  and  the  cope  chests  are  filled  with  orphreyed  baude- 
kins  ;  and  pix  and  pax,  and  chrismatory  are  there,  and  thuri- 
ble, and  cross." 

One  might  have  put  this  man  under  a  pix,  and  left  him,  one 
should  have  thought ;  but  he  has  been  brought  forward,  and 
partly  received,  as  an  example  of  the  effect  of  ceremonial 
splendor  on  the  mind  of  a  great  architect  It  is  very  neces- 
sary, therefore,  that  all  those  who  have  felt  sorrow  at  this 
should  know  at  once  that  he  is  not  a  great  architect,  but  one 
of  the  smallest  possible  or  conceivable  architects  ;  and  that 
by  his  own  account  and  setting  forth  of  himself.  Hear 
him : — 

"I  believe,  as  regards  architecture,  few  men  have  been  so 
unfortunate  as  myself.  I  have  passed  my  life  in  thinking  of 
fine  things,  studying  fine  things  ;  designing  fine  things,  and 
realising  very  poor  onea  I  have  never  had  the  chance  of 


THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

ducing  a  single  fine  ecclesiastical  building,  except  my  owr: 
church,  where  I  am  both  paymaster  and  architect ;  but  every« 
thing  else,  either  for  want  of  adequate  funds  or  injudicious  in- 
terference and  control,  or  some  other  contingency,  is  more  or 
less  a  failure.  *  *  * 

"  St.  George's  was  spoilt  by  the  very  instructions  laid  down 
by  the  committee,  that  it  was  to  hold  3000  people  on  the  floor 
«,t  a  limited  price  ;  in  consequence,  height,  proportion,  every- 
thing, was  sacrificed  to  meet  these  conditions.  Nottingham 
was  spoilt  by  the  style  being  restricted  to  lancet, — a  period 
well  suited  to  a  Cistercian  abbey  in  a  secluded  vale,  but  very 
unsuitable  for  the  centre  of  a  crowded  town.  *  *  * 

"  Kirkham  was  spoilt  through  several  hundred  pounds  being 
reduced  on  the  original  estimate  ;  to  effect  this,  which  was  a 
great  sum  in  proportion  to  the  entire  cost,  the  area  of  the 
church  was  contracted,  the  walls  lowered,  tower  and  spire  re- 
duced, the  thickness  of  walls  diminished,  and  stone  arches 
omitted."  (Remarks,  &c.,  by  A.  Welby  Pugin  :  Dolman,  1850.) 

Is  that  so  ?  Phidias  can  niche  himself  into  the  corner  of  a 
pediment,  and  Raffaelle  expatiate  within  the  circumference  of 
a  clay  platter  ;  but  Pugin  is  inexpressible  in  less  than  a  cathe- 
dral ?  Let  his  ineffableness  be  assured  of  this,  once  for  all, 
that  no  difficulty  or  restraint  ever  happened  to  a  man  of  real 
power,  but  his  power  was  the  more  manifested  in  the  contend- 
ing with,  or  conquering  it ;  and  that  there  is  no  field  so  small, 
no  cranny  so  contracted,  but  that  a  great  spirit  can  house  and 
manifest  itself  therein.  The  thunder  that  smites  the  Alp  into 
dust,  can  gather  itself  into  the  width  of  a  golden  wire.  What- 
ever greatness  there  was  in  you,  had  it  been  Buonarroti's 
own,  you  had  room  enough  for  it  in  a  single  niche :  you 
might  have  put  the  whole  power  of  it  into  two  feet  cube  of 
Caen  stone.  St.  George's  was  not  high  enough  for  want  of 
money  ?  But  was  it  want  of  money  that  made  you  put  that 
blunt,  overloaded,  laborious  ogee  door  into  the  side  of  it  ? 
Was  it  for  lack  of  funds  that  you  sunk  the  tracery  of  the  par- 
apet in  its  clumsy  zigzags  ?  Was  it  in  parsimony  that  you 
buried  its  paltry  pinnacles  in  that  eruption  of  diseased 
crockets  ?  or  in  pecuniary  embarrassment  that  you  set  up  the 


APPENDIX.  381 

belfry  foolscaps,  with  the  mimicry  of  dormer  windows,  which 
nobody  can  ever  reach  nor  look  out  of  ?  Not  so,  but  in  mere 
incapability  of  better  things. 

I  am  sorry  to  have  to  speak  thus  of  any  living  architect ; 
and  there  is  much  in  this  man,  if  he  were  rightly  estimated, 
which  one  might  both  regard  and  profit  by.  He  has  a  most 
sincere  love  for  his  profession,  a  heartily  honest  enthusiasm  for 
pixes  and  piscinas  ;  and  though  he  will  never  design  so  much 
as  a  pix  or  a  piscina  thoroughly  well,  yet  better  than  most  of 
the  experimental  architects  of  the  day.  Employ  him  by  all 
means,  but  on  small  work.  Expect  no  cathedrals  from  him  ; 
but  no  one,  at  present,  can  design  a  better  finial.  That  is  an  ex- 
ceedingly beautiful  one  over  the  western  door  of  St.  George's  ; 
and  there  is  some  spirited  impishness  and  switching  of  tails  in 
the  supporting  figures  at  the  imposts.  Only  do  not  allow  his 
good  designing  of  finials  to  be  employed  as  an  evidence  in 
matters  of  divinity,  nor  thence  deduce  the  incompatibility  of 
Protestantism  and  art.  I  should  have  said  all  that  I  have  said 
above,  of  artistical  apostasy,  if  Giotto  had  been  now  living  in 
Florence,  and  if  art  were  still  doing  all  that  it  did  once  for 
Rome.  But  the  grossness  of  the  error  becomes  incomprehen- 
sible as  well  as  unpardonable,  when  we  look  to  what  level  of 
degradation  the  human  intellect  has  sunk  at  this  instant  in 
Italy.  So  far  from  Romanism  now  producing  anything  greater 
in  art,  it  cannot  even  preserve  what  has  been  given  to  its  keep- 
ing. I  know  no  abuses  of  precious  inheritance  half  so  grievous, 
as  the  abuse  of  all  that  is  best  in  art  wherever  the  Romanist 
priesthood  gets  possession  of  it.  It  amounts  to  absolute  in- 
fatuation. The  noblest  pieces  of  mediaeval  sculpture  in  North 
Italy,  the  two  griffins  at  the  central  (west)  door  of  the  cathe- 
dral of  Verona,  were  daily  permitted  to  be  brought  into  ser- 
vice, when  I  was  there  in  the  autumn  of  1849,  by  a  washer- 
woman living  in  the  Piazza,  who  tied  her  clothes-lines  to  their 
beaks :  and  the  shafts  of  St.  Mark's  at  Venice  were  used  by 
a  salesman  of  common  caricatures  to  fasten  his  prints  upon 
(Compare  Appendix  25)  ;  and  this  in  the  face  of  the  continu- 
ally passing  priests  :  while  the  quantity  of  noble  art  annually 
destroyed  in  altarpieces  by  candle-droppings,  or  perishing  bjf 


382  THE  STORES  OF  VENICE. 

pure  brutality  of  neglect,  passes  all  estimate.  I  do  not  kncnr, 
as  I  have  repeatedly  stated,  how  far  the  splendor  of  architect- 
ure,  or  other  art,  is  compatible  with  the  honesty  and  useful- 
ness of  religious  service.  The  longer  I  live,  the  more  I  incline 
to  severe  judgment  in  this  matter,  and  the  less  I  can  trust  the 
sentiments  excited  by  painted  glass  and  colored  tiles.  But  if 
there  be  indeed  value  in  such  things,  our  plain  duty  is  to  direct 
our  strength  against  the  superstition  which  has  dishonored 
them  ;  there  are  thousands  who  might  possibly  be  benefited 
by  them,  to  whom  they  are  now  merely  an  offence,  owing  to 
their  association  with  idolatrous  ceremonies.  I  have  but  this 
exhortation  for  all  who  love  them, — not  to  regulate  their 
creeds  by  their  taste  in  colors,  but  to  hold  calmly  to  the  right, 
at  whatever  present  cost  to  their  imaginative  enjoyment ;  sure 
that  they  will  one  day  find  in  heavenly  truth  a  brighter  charm 
than  in  earthly  imagery,  and  striving  to  gather  stones  for  the 
eternal  building,  whose  walls  shall  be  salvation,  and  whose 
gates  shall  be  praise. 

13.  MB.  FEBGUSSON'S  SYSTEM. 

The  reader  may  at  first  suppose  this  division  of  the  attri- 
butes of  buildings  into  action,  voice,  and  beauty,  to  be  the 
same  division  as  Mr.  Fergusson's,  now  well  known,  of  their 
merits,  JntQ-iechnic,  sesthetic^and  phonetic. 

But  there  is  no  connection  between  the  two  systems  ;  mine, 
indeed,  does  not  profess  to  be  a  system,  it  is  a  mere  arrange- 
ment of  my  anV>jep.f>_fnrJibft  Ha.Ttftjrfjrrder  and  convenience  in 
itsjreatmentj  but,  as  far  as  it  goes,  it  differs  altogether  from 
Mr.  Fergusson's  in  these  two  following  respects  : — 

The  action  of  a_building,  thatjs  to  say  its  standing  or_con* 
sistence,  depends  on  its  good  construction  ;  and  the  first  part 
of  the  foregoing  volume  has  been  entirely  occupied  with  the 
consideration  of  the  constructive  merit  of  buildings  ;  .but  con- 
struction is  not  their  only  technical  merit.  There  is  as  much 
of  technical  mejii  in-iheir  expression,  or  in  their  beauty,  as  in 
their  construction.  There  is  no  more  mechanical  or  technical 
admirableness  in  the  stroke  of  the  painter  who  covers  them 


APPENDIX.  883 

with  fresco,  than  in  the  dexterity  of  the  mason  who  cements 
their  stones  :  there  is  just  as  much  of  what  is  technical  in 
their  beauty,  therefore,  as  in  their  construction  ; 


other  hand,  there  is  often  just  as  much  ..intellect  shown  in 
their  construction  as  there  is  in  either  their  expression  or 
decoration.  Now  Mr.  Fergusson  means  by  his  "  Phonetic  " 
jliviaion,  whatever  expresses  intellect:  my  constructive  divis- 
ion, therefore,  includes  part  of  his  phonetic  :  and  my  ex- 
pressive and  decorative  divisions  include  part  of  his  technical. 

Secondly,  Mr.  Fergusson  tries  to  make  the  same  divisions 
fit  the  subjects  of  art,  and  art  itself  ;  and  therefore  talks  of 
technic,  Eesthetic,  and  phonetic,  arts,,  (or,  translating  the  Greek,) 
of  artful  arts,  sensitive  arts,  and  talkative  arts  ;  but  I  have 
nothing  to  do  with  any  division  of  the  arts,  I  have  to  deal  only 
with  the  merits  of  buildings.  As,  however,  I  have  been  led 
into  reference  to  Mr.  Fergusson's  system,  I  would  fain  say  a 
word  or  two  to  effect  Mr.  Fergusson's  extrication  from  it.  I 
hope  to  find  in  him  a  noble  ally,  ready  to  join  with  me  in  war 
upon  affectation,  falsehood,  and  prejudice,  of  every  kind  ;  I 
have  derived  much  instruction  from  his  most  interesting  work, 
and  I  hope  for  much  more  from  its  continuation  ;  but  he  must 
disentangle  himself  from  his  system,  or  he  will  be  strangled 
by  it  ;  never  was  anything  so  ingeniously  and  hopelessly  wrong 
throughout  ;  the  whole  of  it  is  founded  on  a  confusion  of  the 
instruments  of  man  with  his  capacities. 

Mr.  Fergusson  would  have  us  take  — 

"  First,  man's  muscular  action  orj)Qwer."     (Technics.) 

"  Secondly,  those  developments  olgensejw  which  he  does  !  !   , 
as  much  as  by  his  muscles."     (^Esthetics.  ) 

"  Lastly,  his  intellect,  or  to  confine  this  jaoreucorrectly-  ta-its-  . 
•  g**?rfln1  on*iimT.  ,his  power  of  speech  !  !  !  "    (Phonetics.  ) 

Granting  this  division  of  humanity  correct,  or  sufficient,  the 
writer  then  most  curiously  supposes  that  he  may  arrange  the 
arts  as  if  there  were  some  belonging  to  each  division  of  man,  — 
never  observing  that  every  art  must  be  governed  by,  and  ad- 
dressed to,  one  division,  and  executed  by  another  ;  executed 
by  the  muscular,  addressed  to  the  sensitive  or  intellectual  ; 
and  that,  to  be  an  art  at  all,  it  must  have  in  it  work  of  the 


384:  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

one,  and  guidance  from  the  other.  If,  by  any  lucky  accident^ 
he  had  been  led  to  arrange  the  arts,  either  by  their  objects, 
and  the  things  to  which  they  are  addressed,  or  by  their  means, 
and  the  things  by  which  they  are  executed,  he  would  hara 
discovered  his  mistake  in  an  instant.  As  thus : — 

These  arts  are  addressed  to  the, — Muscles  I ! 

Senses, 
Intellect ; 

or  executed  by, — Muscles, 
Senses ! ! 
Intellect. 

Indeed  it  is  true  that  some  of  the  arts  are  in  a  sort  addressed 
to  the  muscles,  surgery  for  instance  ;  but  this  is  not  among 
Mr  Fergusson's  technic,  but  his  politic,  arts  !  and  all  the  arts 
may,  in  a  sort,  be  said  to  be  performed  by  the  senses,  as  the 
senses  guide  both  muscles  and  intellect  in  their  work  :  but 
they  guide  them  as  they  receive  information,  or  are  standards 
of  accuracy,  but  not  as  in  themselves  capable  of  action.  Mr. 
Fergusson  is,  I  believe,  the  first  person  who  has  told  us  of 
senses  that  act  or  do,  they  having  been  hitherto  supposed  only 
to  sustain  or  perceive.  The  weight  of  error,  however,  rests 
just  as  much  in  the  original  division  of  man,  as  in  the  en- 
deavor to  fit  the  arts  to  it.  The  slight  omission  of  the  soul 
makes  a  considerable  difference  when  it  begins  to  influence 
the  final  results  of  the  arrangement. 

Mr.  Fergusson  calls  morals  and  religion  "  Politick  arts  "  (as 
if  religion  were  an  art  at  all !  or  as  if  both  were  not  as  neces- 
sary to  individuals  as  to  societies) ;  and  therefore,  forming 
these  into  a  body  of  arts  by  themselves,  leaves  the  best  of  the 
arts  to  do  without  the  soul  and  the  moral  feeling  as  best  they 
may.  Hence  "expression,"  or  "phonetics,"  is  of  intellect 
only  (as  if  men  never  expressed  their  feelings  /)  ;  and  then, 
strangest  and  worst  of  all,  intellect  is  entirely  resolved  into 
talking  !  There  can  be  no  intellect  but  it  must  talk,  and  all 
talking  must  be  intellectual.  I  believe  people  do  sometimes 
talk  without  understanding  ;  and  I  think  the  world  would 
fare  ill  if  they  never  understood  without  talking  The  Intel' 


APPENDIX.  38b 

tect  is  an  entirely  silent  faculty,  and  has  nothing  to  do  with 
parts  of  speech  any  more  than  the  moral  part  has.  A  man 
may  feel  and  know  things  without  expressing  either  the  feel- 
ing or  knowledge  ;  and  the  talking  is  a  muscular  mode  of 
communicating  the  workings  of  the  intellect  or  heart : — mus- 
cular, whether  it  be  by  tongue  or  by  sign,  or  by  carving  or 
writing,  or  by  expression  of  feature  ;  so  that  to  divide  a  man 
into  muscular  and  talking  parts,  is  to  divide  him  into  body  in 
general,  and  tongue  in  particular,  the  endless  confusion  re- 
sulting from  which  arrangement  is  only  less  marvellous  in 
itself,  than  the  resolution  with  which  Mr.  Fergusson  has 
worked  through  it,  and  in  spite  of  it,  up  to  some  very  interest- 
ing and  suggestive  truths  ;  although  starting  with  a  division 
of  humanity  which  does  not  in  the  least  raise  it  above  the 
brute,  for  a  rattlesnake  has  his  muscular,  aesthetic,  and  talk- 
ing part  as  much  as  man,  only  he  talks  with  his  tail,  and  says, 
"  I  am  angry  with  you,  and  should  like  to  bite  you,"  more  la- 
conically and  effectively  than  any  phonetic  biped  could,  were 
he  so  minded.  And,  in  fact,  the  real  difference  between  the 
brute  and  man  is  not  so  much  that  the  one  has  fewer  means  of 
expression  than  the  other,  as  that  it  has  fewer  thoughts  to  ex- 
press, and  that  we  do  not  understand  its  expressions.  Ani- 
mals can  talk  to  one  another  intelligibly  enough  when  they 
have  anything  to  say,  and  their  captains  have  words  of  com- 
mand just  as  clear  as  ours,  and  better  obeyed.  We  have  in- 
deed, in  watching  the  efforts  of  an  intelligent  animal  to  talk 
to  a  human  being,  a  melancholy  sense  of  its  dumbness ;  but 
the  fault  is  still  in  its  intelligence,  more  than  in  its  tongue.  It 
has  not  wit  enough  to  systematise  its  cries  or  signs,  and  form 
them  into  language. 

But  there  is  no  end  to  the  fallacies  and  confusions  of  Mr. 
Fergusson's  arrangement.  It  is  a  perfect  entanglement  of 
gun-cotton,  and  explodes  into  vacuity  wherever  one  holds  a 
light  to  it.  I  shall  leave  him  to  do  so  with  the  rest  of  it  for 
himself,  and  should  perhaps  have  left  it  to  his  own  handling 
altogether,  but  for  the  intemperateness  of  the  spirit  with 
which  he  has  spoken  on  a  subject  perhaps  of  all  others  de- 
manding gentleness  and  caution.  No  man  could  more  ear 
VOL.  L— 26 


386  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

neatly  have  desired  the  changes  lately  introduced  into  the  sys» 
tern  of  the  University  of  Oxford  than  I  did  myself  ;  no  man 
can  be  more  deeply  sensible  than  I  of  grievous  failures  in  the 
practical  working  even  of  the  present  system :  but  I  believe 
that  these  failures  may  be  almost  without  exception  traced  to 
one  source,  the  want  of  evangelical,  and  the  excess  of  rubrical 
religion  among  the  tutors  ;  together  with  such  rustiness  and 
stiffness  as  necessarily  attend  the  continual  operation  of  any 
intellectual  machine.  The  fault  is,  at  any  rate,  far  less  in  the 
system  than  in  the  imperfection  of  its  administration  ;  and 
had  it  been  otherwise,  the  terms  in  which  Mr.  Fergusson 
speaks  of  it  are  hardly  decorous  in  one  who  can  but  be  imper- 
fectly acquainted  with  its  working.  They  are  sufficiently  an- 
swered by  the  structure  of  the  essay  in  which  they  occur  ;  for 
if  the  high  powers  of  mind  which  its  author  possesses  had 
been  subjected  to  the  discipline  of  the  schools,  he  could  not 
have  wasted  his  time  on  the  development  of  a  system  which 
their  simplest  formulae  of  logic  would  have  shown  him  to  be 
untenable. 

Mr.  Fergusson  will,  however,  find  it  easier  to  overthrow  his 
system  than  to  replace  it.  Every  man  of  science  knows  the 
difficulty  of  arranging  a  reasonable  system  of  classification,  in 
any  subject,  by  any  one  group  of  characters  ;  and  that  the 
best  classifications  are,  in  many  of  their  branches,  convenient 
rather  than  reasonable :  so  that,  to  any  person  who  is  really 
master  of  his  subject,  many  different  modes  of  classification 
will  occur  at  different  times  ;  one  of  which  he  will  use  rather 
than  another,  according  to  the  point  which  he  has  to  investi- 
gate. I  need  only  instance  the  three  arrangements  of  miner- 
als, by  their  external  characters,  and  their  positive  or  negative 
bases,  of  which  the  first  is  the  most  useful,  the  second  the 
most  natural,  the  third  the  most  simple  ;  and  all  in  several 
ways  unsatisfactory. 

But  when  the  subject  becomes  one  which  no  single  mind 
can  grasp,  and  which  embraces  the  whole  range  of  human 
occupation  and  enquiry,  the  difficulties  become  as  great,  and 
the  methods  as  various,  as  the  uses  to  which  the  classification 
might  be  put ;  and  Mr.  Fergusson  has  entirely  forgotten  to 


APPENDIX.  387 

inform  us  what  is  the  object  to  which  his  arrangements  aire 
addressed.  For  observe  :  there  is  one  kind  of  arrangement 
which  is  based  on  the  rational  connection  of  the  sciences  or 
arts  with  one  another  ;  an  arrangement  which  maps  them  out 
like  the  rivers  of  some  great  country,  and  marks  tho  points  of 
their  junction,  and  the  direction  and  force  of  their  united 
currents  ;  and  this  without  assigning  to  any  one  of  them  a 
superiority  above  another,  but  considering  them  all  as  neces- 
sary members  of  the  noble  unity  of  human  science  and  effort. 
There  is  another  kind  of  classification  which  contemplates  the 
order  of  succession  in  which  they  might  most  usefully  be  pre- 
sented to  a  single  mind,  so  that  the  given  mind  should  obtain 
the  most  effective  and  available  knowledge  of  them  all :  and, 
finally,  the  most  usual  classification  contemplates  the  powers 
of  mind  which  they  each  require  for  their  pursuit,  the  objects 
to  which  they  are  addressed,  or  with  which  they  are  con- 
cerned ;  and  assigns  to  each  of  them  a  rank  superior  or  in- 
ferior, according  to  the  nobility  of  the  powers  they  require, 
or  the  grandeur  of  the  subjects  they  contemplate. 

Now,  not  only  would  it  be  necessary  to  adopt  a  different 
classification  with  respect  to  each  of  these  great  intentions, 
but  it  might  be  found  so  even  to  vary  the  order  of  the  suc- 
cession of  sciences  in  the  case  of  every  several  mind  to  which 
they  were  addressed  ;  and  that  their  rank  would  also  vary 
with  the  power  and  specific  character  of  the  mind  engaged 
upon  them.  I  once  heard  a  very  profound  mathematician 
remonstrate  against  the  impropriety  of  Wordsworth's  receiv- 
ing a  pension  from  government,  on  the  ground  that  he  was 
"  only  a  poet."  If  the  study  of  mathematics  had  always  this 
narrowing  effect  upon  the  sympathies,  the  science  itself  would 
need  to  be  deprived  of  the  rank  usually  assigned  to  it ;  and 
there  could  be  no  doubt  that,  in  the  effect  it  had  on  the  mind 
of  this  man,  and  of  such  others,  it  was  a  very  contemptible 
science  indeed.  Hence,  in  estimating  the  real  rank  of  any 
art  or  science,  it  is  necessary  for  us  to  conceive  it  as  it  would 
be  grasped  by  minds  of  every  order.  There  are  some  arts 
and  sciences  which  we  underrate,  because  no  one  has  risen  to 
show  us  with  what  majesty  they  may  be  invested  ;  and  others 


888  TEE  STONES  OF  VENICE, 

which  we  overrate,  because  we  are  blinded  to  their  general 
meanness  by  the  magnificence  which  some  one  man  has 
thrown  around  them :  thus,  philology,  evidently  the  most 
contemptible  of  all  the  sciences,  has  been  raised  to  unjust 
dignity  by  Johnson.*  And  the  subject  is  farther  compli- 
cated by  the  question  cf  usefulness  ;  for  many  cf  the  arts  anc. 
sciences  require  considerable  intellectual  power  for  their  pur- 
suit, and  yet  become  contemptible  by  the  slightness  o  what 
they  accomplish :  metaphysics,  for  instance,  exercising  intel- 
ligence of  a  high  order,  yet  useless  to  the  mass  of  mankind, 
and,  to  its  own  masters,  dangerous.  Yet,  as  it  has  become 
so  by  the  want  of  the  true  intelligence  which  its  inquiries 
need,  and  by  substitution  of  vain  subtleties  in  its  stead,  it 
may  in  future  vindicate  for  itself  a  higher  rank  than  a  man  of 
common  sense  usuaUy  concedes  to  it. 

Nevertheless,  the  mere  attempt  at  arrangement  must  be 
useful,  even  where  it  does  nothing  more  than  develop  difficul- 
ties. Perhaps  the  greatest  fault  of  men  of  learning  is  their 
so  often  supposing  all  other  branches  of  science  dependent 
upon  or  inferior  to  their  own  best  beloved  branch  ;  and  the 
greatest  deficiency  of  men  comparatively  unlearned,  their 
want  of  perception  of  the  connection  of  the  branches  with 
each  other.  He  who  holds  the  tree  only  by  the  extremities, 
can  perceive  nothing  but  the  separation  of  its  sprays.  IL 
must  always  be  desirable  to  prove  to  those  the  equality  of 
rank,  to  these  the  closeness  of  sequence,  of  what  they  had 
falsely  supposed  subordinate  or  separate.  And,  after  sucb 
candid  admission  of  the  co-equal  dignity  of  the  truly  noble 
arts  and  sciences,  we  may  be  enabled  mere  justly  to  estimate 
the  inferiority  of  those  which  indeed  seem  '  .tended  for  the 
occupation  of  inferior  powers  and  nnrow  r  capacities.  In 
Appendix  14,  following,  some  suggestions  will  bo  found  as 
to  the  principles  on  which  classification  might  be  based  ;  but 
the  arrangement  of  all  the  arts  is  certainly  not  a  work  which 

*  Not,  however,  by  Johnson's  testimony:  Vide  Adventurer,  No.  39. 
'-Such  operations  as  required  neither  celerity  nor  strength, — the  low 
drudgery  of  collating  copies,  comparing  authorities,  digettiny  diction* 
riea,  or  accumulating  compilation*,'' 


APPENDIX.  3S9 

(jould  with  discretion  be  attempted  in  the  Appendix  to  an 
e,;say  on  a  branch  of  one  of  them. 

14.    DIVISIONS  OF   HUMANITY. 

The  reader  will  probably  understand  this  part  of  the  sub* 
ject  better  if  he  will  take  the  trouble  briefly  to  consider  the 
actions  of  the  mind  and  body  of  man  in  the  sciences  and  arts, 
which  give  these  latter  the  relations  of  rank  usually  attrib- 
uted to  them. 

It  was  above  observed  (Appendix  13)  that  the  arts  were 
generally  ranked  according  to  the  nobility  of  the  powers  they 
require,  that  is  to  say,  the  quantity  of  the  being  of  man  which 
.  ey  engaged  or  addressed.  Now  their  rank  is  not  a  very 
important  matter  as  regards  each  other,  for  there  are  fevv  dis« 
putes  more  futile  than  that  concerning  the  respective  dignity 
of  arts,  all  of  which  are  necessary  and  honorable.  I^ut  it  is  a 
very  important  matter  as  regards  themselves  ;  very  important 
whether  they  are  practised  with  the  devotion  and  regarded 
with  tho  respect  which  are  necessary  or  due  to  their  perfec- 
tion. It  doos  not  at  ell  matter  whether  architecture  or  sculpt- 
ure be  the  nobler  art ;  but  it  matters  much  whether  the 
thought  is  bestowed  upon  buildings,  or  the  feeling  is  ex- 
pressed in  statues,  which  make  either  deserving  of  our  admi- 
ration. It  is  foolish  and  insolent  to  imagine  that  the  art 
which  we  ourselves  practise  is  greater  than  any  other ;  but  it 
is  wise  to  take  care  that  in  our  own  hands  it  is  as  noble  as  we 
can  mako  it.  Let  us  take  some  notice,  therefore,  in  what  de- 
grees the  faculties  of  man  may  be  engaged  in  his  several  arts : 
we  may  consider  the  entire  man  as  made  up  of  body,  soul, 
and  intellect  (Lord  Lindsay,  meaning  the  same  thing,  says  in- 
accurately— sense,  intellect,  and  spirit — forgetting  that  there 
is  a  moral  sense  as  well  as  a  bodily  sense,  and  a  spiritual 
body  as  well  as  a  natural  body,  and  so  gets  into  some  awk- 
ward confusion,  though  right  in  the  main  points).  Then, 
taking  the  word  soul  as  a  short  expression  of  the  moral  and 
responsible  part  of  being,  each  of  these  three  parts  has  a  pas- 
sive and  active  power.  The  body  has  senses  and  muscles; 


390  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

the  soul,  feeling  and  resolution  ;  the  intellect,  understanding 
and  imagination.  The  scheme  may  be  put  into  tabular  form, 
thus : — 

Passive  or  Receptive  Part  Active  or  Motive  Park 
Body       -    -    -     Senses.  Muscles. 

Soul        -    -    -    Feeling.  Resolution. 

Intellect  -    -    -    Understanding.  Imagination. 

In  this  scheme  I  consider  memory  a  part  of  understanding, 
and  conscience  I  leave  out,  as  being  the  voice  of  God  in  the 
heart,  inseparable  from  the  system,  yet  not  an  essential  part 
of  it  The  sense  of  beauty  I  consider  a  mixture  of  the  Sensea 
of  the  body  and  souL 

Now  all  these  parts  of  the  human  system  have  a  reciprocal 
action  on  one  another,  so  that  the  true  perfection  of  any  of 
them  is  not  possible  without  some  relative  perfection  of  the 
others,  and  yet  any  one  of  the  parts  of  the  system  may  be 
brought  into  a  morbid  development,  inconsistent  with  the 
perfection  of  the  others.  Thus,  in  a  healthy  state,  the  acute- 
ness  of  the  senses  quickens  that  of  the  feelings,  and  these  lat- 
ter quickon  the  understanding,  and  then  all  the  three  quicken 
the  imagination,  and  then  all  the  four  strengthen  the  resolu- 
tion ;  while  yet  there  is  a  danger,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the 
encouraged  and  morbid  feeling  may  weaken  or  bias  the  un- 
derstanding, or  that  the  over  shrewd  and  keen  understanding 
may  shorten  the  imagination,  or  that  the  understanding  and 
imagination  together  may  take  place  of,  or  undermine,  the 
resolution,  as  in  Hamlet.  So  in  the  mere  bodily  frame  there 
is  a  delightful  perfection  of  the  senses,  consistent  with  the  ut- 
most health  of  the  muscular  system,  as  in  the  quick  sight  and 
hearing  of  an  active  savage  :  another  false  delicacy  of  the 
senses,  in  the  Sybarite,  consequent  on  their  over  indulgence, 
until  the  doubled  rose-leaf  is  painful ;  and  this  inconsistent 
with  muscular  perfection.  Again  ;  there  is  a  perfection  of 
muscular  action  consistent  with  exquisite  sense,  as  in  that  of 
the  fingers  of  a  musician  or  of  a  painter,  in  which  the  muscle*' 
are  guided  by  the  slightest  feeling  of  the  strings,  or  of  the 


APPENDIX.  391 

pencil :  another  perfection  of  muscular  action  inconsistent 
with  acuteness  of  sense,  as  in  the  effort  of  battle,  in  which  a 
soldier  does  not  perceive  his  wounds.  So  that  it  is  never  so 
much  the  question,  what  is  the  solitary  perfection  of  a  given 
part  of  the  man,  as  what  is  its  balanced  perfection  in  relation 
to  the  whole  of  him  :  and  again,  the  perfection  of  any  single 
power  is  not  merely  to  be  valued  by  the  mere  rank  of  the 
power  itself,  but  by  the  harmony  which  it  indicates  among 
the  other  powers.  Thus,  for  instance,  in  an  archer's  glance 
along  his  arrow,  or  a  hunter's  raising  of  his  rifle,  there  is  a 
certain  perfection  of  sense  and  finger  which  is  the  result  of 
mere  practice,  of  a  simple  bodily  perfection  ;  but  there  is  a 
farther  value  in  the  habit  which  results  from  the  resolution 
and  intellect  necessary  to  the  forming  of  it :  in  the  hunter's 
raising  of  his  rifle  there  is  a  quietness  implying  far  more  than 
mere  practice, — implying  courage,  and  habitual  meeting  of 
danger,  and  presence  of  mind,  and  many  other  such  noble 
characters.  So  also  in  a  musician's  way  of  laying  finger  on 
his  instrument,  or  a  painter's  handling  of  his  pencil,  there  are 
many  qualities  expressive  of  the  special  sensibilities  of  each, 
operating  on  the  production  of  the  habit,  besides  the  sensi- 
bility operating  at  the  moment  of  action.  So  that  there  are 
three  distinct  stages  of  merit  in  what  is  commonly  called 
mere  bodily  dexterity  :  the  first,  the  dexterity  given  by  prac- 
tice, called  command  of  tools  or  of  weapons ;  the  second  stage, 
the  dexterity  or  grace  given  by  character,  as  the  gentleness  of 
hand  proceeding  from  modesty  or  tenderness  of  spirit,  and  the 
steadiness  of  it  resulting  from  habitual  patience  coupled  with 
decision,  and  the  thousand  other  characters  partially  discerni- 
ble, even  in  a  man's  writing,  much  more  in  his  general  handi- 
work ;  and,  thirdly,  there  is  the  perfection  of  action  produced 
by  the  operation  of  present  strength,  feeling,  or  intelligence  on 
instruments  thus  previously  perfected,  as  the  handling  of  a 
great  painter  is  rendered  more  beautiful  by  his  immediate 
care  and  feeling  and  love  of  his  subject,  or  knowledge  of  it, 
»nd  as  physical  strength  is  increased  by  strength  of  will  and 
greatness  of  heart.  Imagine,  for  instance,  the  difference  in 
manner  of  fighting,  and  in  actual  muscular  strength  and  en-- 


392  THE  STONES  OF  VENICB. 

durance,  between  a  common  soldier,  and  a  man  in  the  circum 
stances  of  the  Horatii,  or  of  the  temper  of  Leonidas. 

Mere  physical  skill,  therefore,  the  mere  perfection  and  powei 
of  the  body  as  an  instrument,  is  manifested  in  three  stages : 

First,  Bodily  power  by  practice ; 
Secondly,  Bodily  power  by  moral  habit ; 
Thirdly,  Bodily  power  by  immediate  energy  ; 

and  the  arts  will  be  greater  or  less,  cseteris  paribus,  according 
to  the  degrees  of  these  dexterities  which  they  admit.  A  smith's 
work  at  his  anvil  admits  little  but  the  first ;  fencing,  shooting, 
and  riding,  admit  something  of  the  second  ;  while  the  fine  arts 
admit  (merely  through  the  channel  of  the  bodily  dexterities)  an 
expression  almost  of  the  whole  man. 

Nevertheless,  though  the  higher  aria  admit  this  higher  bodily 
perfection,  they  do  not  all  require  it  in  equal  degrees,  but  can 
dispense  with  it  more  and  more  in  proportion  to  their  dignity. 
The  arts  whose  chief  element  is  bodily  dexterity,  may  be  classed 
together  as  arts  of  the  third  order,  of  which  the  highest  will 
be  those  which  admit  most  of  the  power  of  moral  habit  and 
energy,  such  as  riding  and  the  management  of  weapons  ;  and 
the  rest  may  be  thrown  together  under  the  general  title  of 
handicrafts,  of  which  it  does  not  much  matter  which  are  the 
most  honorable,  but  rather,  which  are  the  most  necessary  and 
least  injurious  to  health,  which  it  is  not  our  present  busines» 
to  examine.  Men  engaged  in  the  practice  of  these  are  called 
artizans,  as  opposed  to  artists,  who  are  concerned  with  the 
fine  arts. 

The  next  step  in  elevation  of  art  is  the  addition  of  the  inteUi* 
gences  which  have  no  connection  with  bodily  dexterity  ;  as,  for 
instance,  in  hunting,  the  knowledge  of  the  habits  of  animals 
and  their  places  of  abode  ;  in  architecture,  of  mathematics  ;  is 
painting,  of  harmonies  of  color  ;  in  music,  of  those  of  sound  ; 
all  this  pure  science  being  joined  with  readiness  of  expedient 
in  applying  it,  and  with  shrewdness  in  apprehension  of  difficult 
ties,  either  present  or  probable. 

It  will  often  happen  that  intelligence  of  this  kind  is 


APPENDIX.  393 

Without  bodily  dexterity,  or  the  need  of  it  ;  one  man  directing 
and  another  executing,  as  for  the  most  part  in  architecture, 
war,  and  seamanship.  And  it  is  to  be  observed,  also,  that  in 
proportion  to  the  dignity  of  the  art,  the  bodily  dexterities 
needed  even  in  its  subordinate  agents  become  less  important 
and  are  more  and  more  replaced  by  intelligence  ;  as  in  the 
steering  of  a  ship,  the  bodily  dexterity  required  is  less  than  in 
shooting  or  fencing,  but  the  intelligence  far  greater  :  and  so  in 
war,  the  mere  swordsmanship  and  marksmanship  of  the  troops 
are  of  small  importance  in  comparison  with  their  disposition, 
and  right  choice  of  the  moment  of  action.  So  that  arts  of  this 
second  order  must  be  estimated,  not  by  the  quantity  of  bodily 
dexterity  they  require,  but  by  the  quantity  and  dignity  of  the 
knowledge  needed  in  their  practice,  and  by  the  degree  of 
subtlety  needed  in  bringing  such  knowledge  into  play.  War 
certainly  stands  first  in  the  general  mind,  not  only  as  the 
(greatest  of  the  arts  which  I  have  called  of  the  second  order, 
but  as  the  greatest  of  all  arts.  It  is  not,  however,  easy  to 
distinguish  the  respect  paid  to  the  Power,  from  that  rendered 
to  the  Art  of  the  soldier  ;  the  honor  of  victory  being  more 
dependent,  in  the  vulgar  mind,  on  its  results,  than  its  difficul- 
ties. I  believe,  however,  that  taking  into  consideration  the 
greatness  of  the  anxieties  under  which  this  art  must  be  prac- 
tised, the  multitude  of  circumstances  to  be  known  and  re« 
garded  in  it,  and  the  subtleties  both  of  apprehension  and 
stratagem  constantly  demanded  by  it,  as  well  as  the  multi- 
plicity of  disturbing  accidents  and  doubtful  contingencies 
against  which  it  must  make  provision  on  the  instant,  it  must 
indeed  rank  as  far  the  first  of  the  arts  of  the  second  order  \ 
and  next  to  this  great  art  of  killing,  medicine  being  much  like 
war  in  its  stratagems  and  watchings  against  its  dark  and 
subtle  death-enemy. 

Then  the  arts  of  the  first  order  will  be  those  in  which  the 
Imaginative  part  of  the  intellect  and  the  Sensitive  part  of  the 
eoul  are  joined  :  as  poetry,  architecture,  and  painting  ;  these 
forming  a  kind  of  cross,  in  their  part  of  the  scheme  of  the  hu- 
man being,  with  those  of  the  second  order,  which  wed  the  In« 
telligent  part  of  the  intellect  and  Kesolute  part  of  the  soul 
Stones  of  Venice— Vol.  L— 18 


894  THE  STONES  Of  YENIOB. 

But  the  reader  must  feel  more  and  more,  at  every  step,  th« 
impossibility  of  classing  the  arts  themselves,  independently  of 
the  men  by  whom  they  are  practised  ;  and  how  an  art,  low  in 
itself,  may  be  made  noble  by  the  quantity  of  human  strength 
and  being  which  a  great  man  will  pour  into  it ;  and  an  art, 
great  in  itself,  be  made  mean  by  the  meanness  of  the  mind 
occupied  in  it.  I  do  not  intend,  when  I  call  painting  an  art 
of  the  first,  and  war  an  art  of  the  second,  order,  to  class 
Dutch  landscape  painters  with  good  soldiers  ;  but  I  mean, 
that  if  from  such  a  man  as  Napoleon  we  were  to  take  away 
the  honor  of  all  that  he  had  done  in  law  and  civil  government, 
and  to  give  him  the  reputation  of  his  soldiership  only,  his 
name  would  be  less,  if  justly  weighed,  than  that  of  Buon- 
arroti, himself  a  good  soldier  also,  when  need  was.  But  I 
will  not  endeavor  to  pursue  the  inquiry,  for  I  believe  that  of 
all  the  arts  of  the  first  order  it  would  be  found  that  all  that  a 
man  has,  or  is,  or  can  be,  he  can  fully  express  in  them,  and 
give  to  any  of  them,  and  find  it  not  enough. 

15.    INSTINCTIVE  JUDGMENTS. 

The  same  rapid  judgment  which  I  wish  to  enable  the  reader 
to  form  of  architecture,  may  in  some  sort  also  be  formed  of 
painting,  owing  to  the  close  connection  between  execution  and 
expression  in  the  latter ;  as  between  structure  and  expression 
in  the  former.  We  ought  to  be  able  to  tell  good  painting  by 
a  side  glance  as  we  pass  along  a  gallery  ;  and,  until  we  can  do 
BO,  we  are  not  fit  to  pronounce  judgment  at  all :  not  that  I 
class  this  easily  visible  excellence  of  painting  with  the  great  ex- 
pressional  qualities  which  time  and  watchfulness  only  unfold. 
I  have  again  and  again  insisted  on  the  supremacy  of  these 
last  and  shall  always  continue  to  do  so.  But  I  perceive  a  ten- 
dency among  some  of  the  more  thoughtful  critics  of  the  day 
to  forget  that  the  business  of  a  painter  is  to  paint,  and  so  al- 
together to  despise  those  men,  Veronese  and  Bubens  for  in- 
stance, who  were  painters,  par  excellence,  and  in  whom  the 
expressional  qualities  are  subordinate.  Now  it  is  well,  when 
we  have  strong  moral  or  poetical  feeling  manifested  in  paint- 
ing, to  mark  this  as  the  best  part  of  the  work  ;  but  it  is  not 


APPENDIX.  39* 

w«U  to  consider  as  a  thing  of  small  account,  the  painter's  lan- 
guage in  which  that  feeling  is  conveyed  ;  for  if  that  language 
be  not  good  and  lovely,  the  man  may  indeed  be  a  just  moral- 
ist or  a  great  poet,  but  he  is  not  a  painter,  and  it  was  wrong 
of  him  to  paint.  He  had  much  better  put  his  morality  into 
aermons,  and  his  poetry  into  verse,  than  into  a  language 
of  which  he  was  not  master.  And  this  mastery  of  the  lan- 
guage is  that  of  which  we  should  be  cognizant  by  a  glance  of 
the  eye  ;  and  if  that  be  not  found,  it  is  wasted  time  to  look 
farther  :  the  man  has  mistaken  his  vocation,  and  his  expres- 
sion of  himself  will  be  cramped  by  his  awkward  efforts  to  do 
what  he  was  not  fit  to  do.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  man  be 
a  painter  indeed,  and  have  the  gift  of  colors  and  lines,  what 
is  in  him  will  come  from  his  hand  freely  and  faithfully  ;  and 
the  language  itself  is  so  difficult  and  so  vast,  that  the  mere 
possession  of  it  argues  the  man  is  great,  and  that  his  works 
are  worth  reading.  So  that  I  have  never  yet  seen  the  case  in 
which  this  true  artistical  excellence,  visible  by  the  eye-glance, 
was  not  the  index  of  some  true  expressional  worth  in  the 
work.  Neither  have  I  ever  teen  a  good  expressional  work 
without  high  artistical  merit :  and  that  this  is  ever  denied  is 
only  owing  to  the  narrow  view  which  men  are  apt  to  take  both 
of  expression  and  of  art ;  a  narrowness  consequent  on  their 
own  especial  practice  and  habits  of  thought.  A  man  long 
trained  to  love  the  monk's  visions  of  Fra  Angelico,  turns  in 
proud  and  ineffable  disgust  from  the  first  work  of  Rubens 
which  he  encounters  on  his  return  across  the  Alps.  But  is  he 
right  in  his  indignation  ?  He  has  forgotten,  that  while  An- 
gelico prayed  and  wept  in  his  olive  shade,  there  was  different 
work  doing  in  the  dank  fields  of  Flanders  ; — wild  seas  to  be 
banked  out ;  endless  canals  to  be  dug,  and  boundless  marshes 
to  be  drained  ;  hard  ploughing  and  harrowing  of  the  frosty 
clay  ;  careful  breeding  of  stout  horses  and  fat  cattle  ;  close 
setting  of  brick  walls  against  cold  winds  and  snow  ;  much 
hardening  of  hands  and  gross  stoutening  of  bodies  in  all  this  ; 
gross  jovialities  of  harvest  homes  and  Christmas  feasts,  which 
were  to  be  the  reward  of  it ;  rough  affections,  and  sluggish 
.imagination ;  fleshy,  substantial,  ironshod  humanities,  but 


S96  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

humanities  still ;  humanities  which  God  had  his  eye  upon, 
and  which  won,  perhaps,  here  and  there,  as  much  favoi 
in  his  sight  as  the  wasted  aspects  of  the  whispering  monks 
of  Florence  (Heaven  forbid  it  should  not  be  so,  since  the 
most  of  us  cannot  be  monks,  but  must  be  ploughmen  and 
reapers  still).  And  are  we  to  suppose  there  is  no  nobility 
in  Rubens'  masculine  and  universal  sympathy  with  all  this, 
and  with  his  large  human  rendering  of  it,  Gentleman  though 
lie  was,  by  birth,  and  feeling,  and  education,  and  place  ;  and, 
when  he  chose,  lordly  in  conception  also?  He  had  his 
faults,  perhaps  great  and  lamentable  faults,  though  more 
those  of  his  time  and  his  country  than  his  own  ;  he  has 
neither  cloister  breeding  nor  boudoir  breeding,  and  is  very 
unfit  to  paint  either  in  missals  or  annuals  ;  but  he  has  an 
open  sky  and  wide-world  breeding  in  him,  that  we  may  not 
be  offended  with,  fit  alike  for  king's  court,  knight's  camp,  or 
peasant's  cottage.  On  the  other  hand,  a  man  trained  here  in 
England,  in  our  Sir  Joshua  school,  will  not  and  cannot  allow 
that  there  is  any  art  at  all  in  the  technical  work  of  Angelico. 
But  he  is  just  as  wrong  as  the  other.  Fra  Angelico  is  as  true 
a  master  of  the  art  necessary  to  his  purposes,  as  Rubens  was 
of  that  necessary  for  his.  We  have  been  taught  in  England 
to  think  there  can  be  no  virtue  but  in  a  loaded  brush  and 
rapid  hand  ;  but  if  we  can  shake  our  common  sense  free  of 
such  teaching,  we  shall  understand  that  there  is  art  also  in 
the  delicate  point  and  in  the  hand  which  trembles  as  it  moves  ; 
not  because  it  is  more  liable  to  err,  but  because  there  is 
more  danger  in  its  error,  and  more  at  stake  upon  its  precision. 
The  art  of  Angelico,  both  as  a  colorist  and  a  draughtsman,  is 
consummate  ;  so  perfect  and  beautiful,  that  his  work  may  be 
recognised  at  any  distance  by  the  rainbow-play  and  brilliancy 
of  it :  However  closely  it  may  be  surrounded  by  other  works 
of  the  same  school,  glowing  with  enamel  and  gold,  Angelico's 
may  be  told  from  them  at  a  glance,  like  so  many  huge  pieces 
of  opal  lying  among  common  marbles.  So  again  with  Giotto  ; 
the  Arena  chapel  is  not  only  the  most  perfect  expressional 
work,  it  is  the  prettiest  piece  of  wall  decoration  and  fair  color; 
in  North  Italy. 


APPENDIX.  397 

Now  there  is  a  correspondence  of  the  same  kind  between 
the  technical  and  expressional  parts  of  architecture  ; — not  a 
true  or  entire  correspondence,  so  that  when  the  expression  is 
best,  the  building  must  be  also  best ;  but  so  much  of  corre- 
spondence as  that  good  building  is  necessary  to  good  expres- 
sion, comes  before  it,  and  is  to  be  primarily  looked  for :  and 
the  more,  because  the  manner  of  building  is  capable  of  being 
determinately  estimated  and  classed  ;  but  the  expressional 
character  not  so :  we  can  at  once  determine  the  true  value  of 
technical  qualities,  we  can  only  approximate  to  the  value  of 
expressional  qualities  :  and  besides  this,  the  looking  for  the 
technical  qualities  first  will  enable  us  to  cast  a  large  quantity 
of  rubbish  aside  at  once,  and  so  to  narrow  the  difficult  field  of 
inquiry  into  expression  :  we  shall  get  rid  of  Chinese  pagodas 
and  Indian  temples,  and  Eenaissance  Palladianisms,  and  Al- 
hambra  stucco  and  filigree,  in  one  great  rubbish  heap  ;  and 
shall  not  need  to  trouble  ourselves  about  their  expression,  or 
anything  else  concerning  them.  Then  taking  the  buildings 
which  have  been  rightly  put  together,  and  which  show  com- 
mon sense  in  their  structure,  we  may  look  for  their  farther 
and  higher  excellences  ;  but  on  those  which  are  absurd  in 
their  first  steps  we  need  waste  no  time. 

16.  STRENGTH   OF   SHAFTS. 

I  could  have  wished,  before  writing  this  chapter,  to  have 
given  more  study  to  the  difficult  subject  of  the  strength  of 
shafts  of  different  materials  and  structure ;  but  I  cannot  enter 
into  every  inquiry  which  general  criticism  might  suggest,  and 
this  I  believe  to  be  one  which  would  have  occupied  the  reader 
with  less  profit  than  many  others  :  all  that  is  necessary  for ... 
\\\m  to  note  is,  tTmt.  thft  gr^al^praasg  of_Rfa-fmgth  gained  by  A- 
.tuboilar_form  in  iroii  shafts,  of  given  solid  contents,  is  no  con- 
tradiction to  the  general  principle  stated  in  the  text,  that  the~ 
strength  of  materials  is  most  available  when  they  are  most 
concentrated.     The  strength  of  the  tube  is  owing  to  certmn 
/properties .  of~iiie  ajcn_f6rmed  Jay  its  sJdes^nQUiQ-lhadispjgr^ 
jrion  of  its  materials  ;  and  the  prmciplejisjiltpgether  inapplica* 


898  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 


ble  to  stone  shafts.  N"  rm^  wop^d  fo"1*  nf  biii'lding  a  pillal 
oiA-sueeession  of  sandstone  rings.;  however  strong  it  might 
be,  it  would  be  still  stronger  filled  up,  and  the  substitution  of 
such  a  pillar  for  a  solid  one  of  the  same  contents  would  lose 
too  much  space  ;  for  a  stone  pillar,  even  when  solid,  must  be 
quite  as  thick  as  is  either  graceful  or  convenient,  and  in  mod- 
ern churches  is  often  too  thick  as  it  is,  hindering  sight  of  the 
preacher,  and  checking  the  sound  of  his  voice. 

17.    ANSWER   TO    MK.    QAKBETT. 

Some  three  months  ago,  and  long  after  the  writing  of  this 
passage,  I  met  accidentally  with  Mr.  Garbett's  elementary 
Treatise  on  Design.  (Weale,  1850.)  If  I  had  cared  about  the 
reputation  of  originality,  I  should  have  been  annoyed  —  and 
was  so,  at  first,  on  finding  Mr.  Garbett's  illustrations  of  the 
subject  exactly  the  same  as  mine,  even  to  the  choice  of  the  ele- 
phant's foot  for  the  parallel  of  the  Doric  pillar  :  I  even  thought 
of  omitting,  or  re-writing,  great  part  of  the  chapter,  but  deter- 
mined at  last  to  let  it  stand.  I  am  striving  to  speak  plain 
truths  on  many  simple  and  trite  subjects,  and  I  hope,  there- 
fore, that  much  of  what  I  say  has  been  said  before,  and  am 
quite  willing  to  give  up  all  claim  to  originality  in  any  reason- 
ing or  assertion  whatsoever,  if  any  one  cares  to  dispute  it.  I 
desire  the  reader  to  accept  what  I  say,  not  as  mine,  but  as  the 
truth,  which  may  be  all  the  world's,  if  they  look  for  it.  If 
I  remember  rightly,  Mr.  Frank  Howard  promised  at  some 
discussion  respecting  the  "Seven  Lamps,"  reported  in  the 
"Builder,"  to  pluck  all  my  borrowed  feathers  off  me  ;  but  I 
did  not  see  the  end  of  the  discussion,  and  do  not  know  to  this 
day  how  many  feathers  I  have  left  :  at  all  events  the  elephant's 
foot  must  belong  to  Mr.  Garbett,  though,  strictly  speaking, 
neither  he  nor  I  can  be  quite  justified  in  using  it,  for  an  ele- 
phant in  reality  stands  on  tiptoe  ;  and  this  is  by  no  means  the 
expression  of  a  Doric  shaft.  As,  however,  I  have  been  obliged 
to  speak  of  this  treatise  of  Mr.  Garbett's,  and  desire  also  to 
recommend  it  as  of  much  interest  and  utility  in  its  statements 
of  fact,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  pass  altogether  without  nxj* 


APPENDIX.  399 

fcice,  as  if  unanswerable,  several  passages  in  which  the  writer 
has  objected  to  views  stated  in  the  "  Seven  Lamps."  I  should 
at  any  rate  have  noticed  the  passage  quoted  above,  (Chap. 
30th,)  which  runs  counter  to  the  spirit  of  all  I  have  ever  writ- 
ten, though  without  referring  to  me ;  but  the  references  to 
*;he  "  Seven  Lamps  "  I  should  not  have  answered,  unless  I  had 
desired,  generally,  to  recommend  the  book,  and  partly  also,  be- 
cause they  may  serve  as  examples  of  the  kind  of  animadversion 
which  the  "Seven  Lamps  "had  to  sustain  from  architects, 
very  generally ;  which  examples  being  once  answered,  there 
will  be  little  occasion  for  my  referring  in  future  to  other  criti- 
cisms of  the  kind. 

The  first  reference  to  the  "  Seven  Lamps  "  is  in  the  second 
page,  where  Mr.  Garbett  asks  a  question,  "  Why  are  not  con- 
venience and  stability  enough  to  constitute  a  fine  building?  " 
— which  I  should  have  answered  shortly  by  asking  another, 
"  Why  we  have  been  made  men,  and  not  bees  nor  termites  :  * 
but  Mr.  Garbett  has  given  a  very  pretty,  though  partial, 
answer  to  it  himself,  in  his  4th  to  9th  pages, — an  answe* 
which  I  heartily  beg  the  reader  to  consider.  But,  in  page  12, 
it  is  made  a  grave  charge  against  me,  that  I  use  the  words 
beauty  and  ornament  interchangeably.  I  do  so,  and  ever 
shall ;  and  so,  I  believe,  one  day,  will  Mr.  Garbett  himself ; 
but  not  while  he  continues  to  head  his  pages  thus : — "  Beauty 
not  dependent  on  ornament,  or  superfluous  features."  What 
right  has  he  to  assume  that  ornament,  rightly  so  called,  ever 
was,  or  can  be,  superfluous  ?  I  have  said  before,  and  repeat- 
edly in  other  places,  that  the  most  beautiful  things  are  the 
most  useless  ;  I  never  said  superfluous.  I  said  useless  in  the 
well-understood  and  usual  sense,  as  meaning,  inapplicable  to 
the  service  of  the  body.  Thus  I  called  peacocks  and  lilies 
useless  ;  meaning,  that  roast  peacock  was  unwholesome  (tak» 
ing  Juvenal's  word  for  it),  and  that  dried  lilies  made  bad  hay: 
but  I  do  not  think  peacocks  superfluous  birds,  nor  that  the 
world  could  get  on  well  without  its  lilies.  Or,  to  look  closer, 
I  suppose  the  peacock's  blue  eyes  to  be  very  useless  to  him ; 
not  dangerous  indeed,  as  to  their  first  master,  but  of  small 
service,  yet  I  do  not  think  there  is  a  superfluous  eye  in  all  hia 


400  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

tail :  and  for  lilies,  though  the  great  King  of  Israel  was  not 
"  arrayed  "  like  one  of  them,  can  Mr.  Garbett  tell  us  which 
are  their  superfluous  leaves  ?  Is  there  no  Diogenes  among 
lilies?  none  to  be  found  content  to  drink  dew,  but  out  of 
silver  ?  The  fact  is,  I  never  met  with  the  architect  yet  who 
did  not  think  ornament  meant  a  thing  to  be  bought  in  a  shop 
and  pinned  on,  or  left  off,  at  architectural  toilets,  as  the  fancy 
•eized  them,  thinking  little  more  than  many  women  do  of  the 
other  kind  of  ornament — the  only  true  kind, — St.  Peter's  kind, 
— "  Not  that  outward  adorning,  but  the  inner — of  the  heart." 
I  do  not  mean  that  architects  cannot  conceive  this  better  or- 
nament, but  they  do  not  understand  that  it  is  the  only  orna- 
ment ;  that  ail  architectural  ornament  is  this,  and  nothing  but 
this ;  that  a  noble  building  never  has  any  extraneous  or  su- 
perfluous ornament;  that  all  its  parts  are  necessary  to  its  love- 
liness, and  that  no  single  atom  of  them  could  be  removed 
without  harm  to  its  life.  You  do  not  build  a  temple  and  then 
dress  it.*  You  create  it  in  its  loveliness,  and  leave  it,  as  her 
Maker  left  Eve.  Not  unadorned,  I  believe,  but  so  well  adorned 
as  to  need  no  feather  crowns.  And  I  use  the  words  ornament 
and  beauty  interchangeably,  in  order  that  architects  may  un- 
derstand this  :  I  assume  that  their  building  is  to  be  a  perfect 
creature  capable  of  nothing  less  than  it  has,  and  needing  noth- 
ing more.  It  may,  indeed,  receive  additional  decoration  after- 
wards, exactly  as  a  woman  may  gracefully  put  a  bracelet  on 
her  arm,  or  set  a  flower  in  her  hair:  but  that  additional 
decoration  is  not  the  architecture.  It  is  of  curtains,  pictures, 
statues,  things  that  may  be  taken  away  from  the  building,  and 
not  hurt  it.  What  has  the  architect  to  do  with  these  ?  He  has 
only  to  do  with  what  is  part  of  the  building  itself,  that  is  to 
say,  its  own  inherent  beauty.  And  because  Mr.  Garbett  does 
not  understand  or  acknowledge  this,  he  is  led  on  from  error 
to  error  ;  for  we  next  find  him  endeavoring  to  define  beauty 
as  distinct  from  ornament,  and  saying  that  "Positive  beauty 
may  be  produced  by  a  studious  collation  of  whatever  will 

*  We  have  done  so — theoretically  ;  just  as  one  would  reason  on  th« 
human  form  from  the  bones  outwards :  but  the  Architect  of  hnmay 
form  frames  all  at  once — bone  and  flesh. 


APPENDIX.  401 

display  design,  order,  and  congruity."  (p.  14.)  Is  that  so? 
There  is  a  highly  studious  collation  of  whatever  will  display 
design,  order,  and  congruity,  in  a  skull,  is  there  not? — yet 
small  beauty.  The  nose  is  a  decorative  feature, — yet  slightly 
necessary  to  beauty,  it  seems  to  me  ;  now,  at  least,  for  I  once 
thought  I  must  be  wrong  in  considering  a  skull  disagreeable. 
I  gave  it  fair  trial :  put  one  on  my  bedroom  chimney-piece, 
and  looked  at  it  by  sunrise  every  morning,  and  by  moonlight 
every  night,  and  by  all  the  best  lights  I  could  think  of,  for  a 
month,  in  vain.  I  found  it  as  ugly  at  last  as  I  did  at  first. 
So,  also,  the  hair  is  a  decoration,  and  its  natural  curl  is  of 
little  use  ;  but  can  Mr.  Garbett  conceive  a  bald  beauty ;  or 
does  he  prefer  a  wig,  because  that  is  a  "  studious  collation  " 
of  whatever  will  produce  design,  order,  and  congruity  ?  So 
the  flush  of  the  cheek  is  a  decoration, — God's  painting  of  the 
temple  of  his  spirit, — and  the  redness  of  the  lip  ;  and  yet  poor 
Viola  thought  it  beauty  truly  blent ;  and  I  hold  with  her. 

I  have  answered  enough  to  this  count. 

The  second  point  questioned  is  my  assertion,  "  Ornament 
cannot  be  overcharged  if  it  is  good,  and  is  always  overcharged 
when  it  is  bad."  To  which  Mr.  Garbett  objects  in  these  terms  : 
"  I  must  contend,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  very  best  ornament 
may  be  overcharged  by  being  misplaced." 

A  short  sentence  with  two  mistakes  in  it. 

First.  Mr.  Garbett  cannot  get  rid  of  his  unfortunate  notion 
that  ornament  is  a  thing  to  be  manufactured  separately,  and 
fastened  on.  He  supposes  that  an  ornament  may  be  called 
good  in  itself,  in  the  stonemason's  yard,  or  in  the  ironmonger's 
shop  :  Once  for  all,  let  him  put  this  idea  out  of  his  head.  We 
may  say  of  a  thing,  considered  separately,  that  it  is  a  pretty 
thing  ;  but  before  we  can  say  it  is  a  good  ornament,  we  must 
know  what  it  is  to  adorn,  and  how.  As,  for  instance,  a  ring 
of  gold  is  a  pretty  thing  ;  it  is  a  good  ornament  on  a  woman's 
finger  ;  not  a  good  ornament  hung  through  her  under  lip.  A 
hollyhock,  seven  feet  high,  would  be  a  good  ornament  for  a 
cottage-garden  ;  not  a  good  ornament  for  a  lady's  head-dress. 
Might  not  Mr.  Garbett  have  seen  this  without  my  showing  1 
and  that,  therefore,  y/hen  I  said  "good"  ornament,  I  said 
VOL.  I— 26 


402  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

"  well-placed  M  ornament,  in  one  word,  and  that,  also,  when 
Mr.  Garbett  says  "it  may  be  overcharged  by  being  mis- 
placed," be  merely  says  it  may  be  overcharged  by  being  bad. 

Secondly.  But,  granted  that  ornament  were  independent 
of  its  position,  and  might  be  pronounced  good  in  a  separate 
form,  as  books  are  good,  or  men  are  good, — Suppose  I  had 
written  to  a  student  in  Oxford,  "  You  cannot  have  too  many 
books,  if  they  be  good  books  ; "  and  he  had  answered  me, 
"  Yes,  for  if  I  have  many,  I  have  no  place  to  put  them  in  but 
the  coal-cellar."  Would  that  in  anywise  affect  the  general 
principle  that  he  could  not  have  too  many  books  ? 

Or  suppose  he  had  written,  "  I  must  not  have  too  many, 
they  confuse  my  head."  I  should  have  written  back  to  him  : 
"  Don't  buy  books  to  put  in  the  coal-hole,  nor  read  them  if 
they  confuse  your  head  ;  you  cannot  have  too  many,  if  they  be 
good  :  but  if  you  are  too  lazy  to  take  care  of  them,  or  too  dull 
to  profit  by  them,  you  are  better  without  them." 

Exactly  in  the  same  tone,  I  repeat  to  Mr.  Garbett,  "  You 
cannot  have  too  much  ornament,  if  it  be  good :  but  if  you  are 
too  indolent  to  arrange  it,  or  too  dull  to  take  advantage  of  it, 
assuredly  you  are  better  without  it." 

The  other  points  bearing  on  this  question  have  already  been 
stated  in  the  close  of  the  21st  chapter. 

The  third  reference  I  have  to  answer,  is  to  my  repeated  as- 
sertion, that  the  evidence  of  manual  labor  is  one  of  the  chief 
sources  of  value  in  ornament,  ("  Seven  Lamps,"  p.  56,  "  Mod- 
ern Painters,"  §  1,  Chap.  HI.,)  to  which  objection  is  made  in 
these  terms  :  "  We  must  here  warn  the  reader  against  a  re- 
markable error  of  Ruskin.  The  value  of  ornaments  in  archi- 
tecture depends  not  in  the  slightest  degree  on  the  manual  labor 
they  contain.  If  it  did,  the  finest  ornaments  ever  executed 
would  be  the  stone  chains  that  hang  before  certain  Indian 
rock-temples."  Is  that  so  ?  Hear  a  parallel  argument.  "  The 
value  of  the  Cornish  mines  depends  not  in  the  slightest  degree 
on  the  quantity  of  copper  they  contain.  If  it  did,  the  most 
valuable  things  ever  produced  would  be  copper  saucepans." 
It  is  hardly  worth  my  while  to  answer  this  ;  but,  lest  any  of 
my  readers  should  be  confused  by  the  objection,  and  as  I  hold 


APPENDIX.  403 

the  &ct  to  be  of  great  importance,  I  may  re-state  it  for  them 
witli  some  explanation. 

Observe,  then,  the  appearance  of  labor,  that  is  to  say,  the 
evidence  of  the  past  industry  of  man,  is  always,  in  the  abstract, 
intensely  delightful :  man  being  meant  to  labor,  it  is  delightful 
to  see  that  he  has  labored,  and  to  read  the  record  of  his  active 
and  worthy  existence. 

The  evidence  of  labor  becomes  painful  only  when  it  is  a  eign 
of  Evil  greater,  as  Evil,  than  the  labor  is  great,  as  Good.  As, 
for  instance,  if  a  man  has  labored  for  an  hour  at  what  might 
have  been  done  by  another  man  in  a  moment,  this  evidence  of 
his  labor  is  also  evidence  of  his  weakness ;  and  this  weakness  is 
greater  in  rank  of  evil,  than  his  industry  is  great  in  rank  of 
good. 

Again,  if  a  man  have  labored  at  what  was  not  worth  accom- 
plishing, the  signs  of  his  labor  are  the  signs  of  his  folly,  and  his 
folly  dishonors  his  industry ;  we  had  rather  he  had  been  a  wise 
man  in  rest  than  a  fool  in  labor. 

Again,  if  a  man  have  labored  without  accomplishing  any- 
thing, the  signs  of  his  labor  are  the  signs  of  his  disappoint- 
ment ;  and  we  have  more  sorrow  in  sympathy  with  his  failure, 
than  pleasure  in  sympathy  with  his  work. 

Now,  therefore,  in  ornament,  whenever  labor  replaces  what 
was  better  than  labor,  that  is  to  say,  skill  and  thought ;  wher- 
ever it  substitutes  itself  for  these,  or  negatives  these  by  its  exist- 
ence, then  it  is  positive  evil.  Copper  is  an  evil  when  it  alloys 
gold,  or  poisons  food :  not  an  evil,  as  copper ;  good  in  the 
form  of  pence,  seriously  objectionable  when  it  occupies  the 
room  of  guineas.  Let  Danae  cast  it  out  of  her  lap,  when 
the  gold  comes  from  heaven  ;  but  let  the  poor  man  gather  it 
up  carefully  from  the  earth. 

Farther,  the  evidence  of  labor  is  not  only  a  good  when  added 
to  other  good,  but  the  utter  absence  of  it  destroys  good  in 
human  work.  It  is  only  good  for  God  to  create  without  toil ; 
that  which  man  can  create  without  toil  is  worthless  :  machine 
ornaments  are  no  ornaments  at  all  Consider  this  carefully, 
reader  :  I  could  illustrate  it  for  you  endlessly  ;  but  you  feel  it 
yourself  every  hour  of  your  existence.  And  if  you  do  not 


THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

know  that  you  feel  it,  take  up,  for  a  little  time,  the  trad« 
which  of  all  manual  trades  has  been  most  honored  :  be  for 
once  a  carpenter.  Make  for  yourself  a  table  or  a  chair,  and 
see  if  you  ever  thought  any  table  or  chair  so  delightful, 
and  what  strange  beauty  there  will  be  in  their  crooked  limbs. 

I  have  not  noticed  any  other  animadversions  on  the  "  Seven 
Lamps"  in  Mr.  Garbett's  volume  ;  but  if  there  be  more,  I  must 
now  leave  it  to  his  own  consideration,  whether  he  may  not,  as 
in  the  above  instances,  have  made  them  incautiously :  I  may, 
perhaps,  also  be  permitted  to  request  other  architects,  who 
may  happen  to  glance  at  the  preceding  pages,  not  immediately 
to  condemn  what  may  appear  to  them  false  in  general  principle. 
I  must  often  be  found  deficient  in  technical  knowledge ;  I  may 
often  err  in  my  statements  respecting  matters  of  practice  or  of 
special  law.  But  I  do  not  write  thoughtlessly  respecting  prin- 
ciples ;  and  my  statements  of  these  will  generally  be  found 
worth  reconnoitring  before  attacking.  Architects,  no  doubt, 
fancy  they  have  strong  grounds  for  supposing  me  wrong  when 
they  seek  to  invalidate  my  assertions.  Let  me  assure  them,  at 
least,  that  I  mean  to  be  their  friend,  although  they  may  not 
immediately  recognise  me  as  such.  If  I  could  obtain  the 
public  ear,  and  the  principles  I  have  advocated  were  carried 
into  general  practice,  porphyry  and  serpentine  would  be 
given  to  them  instead  of  limestone  and  brick  ;  instead  of  tavern 
and  shop-fronts  they  would  have  to  build  goodly  churches 
and  noble  dwelling-houses  ;  and  for  every  stunted  Grecism 
and  stucco  Romanism,  into  which  they  are  now  forced  to 
shape  their  palsied  thoughts,  and  to  whose  crumbling  plagiar- 
isms they  must  trust  their  doubtful  fame,  they  would  be 
asked  to  raise  whole  streets  of  bold,  and  rich,  and  living  archi- 
tecture, with  the  certainty  in  their  hearts  of  doing  what  was 
honorable  to  themselves,  and  good  for  all  men. 

Before  I  altogether  leave  the  question  of  the  influence  of 
labor  on  architectural  effect,  the  reader  may  expect  from  me  a 
word  or  two  respecting  the  subject  which  this  year  must  be 
interesting  to  all  -the  applicability,  namely,  of  glass  and  iron 
to  architecture  in  general,  as  in  some  sort  exemplified  by  the 
Crystal  Palace. 


APPENDIX.  406 

It  is  thought  by  many  that  we  shall  forthwith  have  great 
part  of  our  architecture  in  glass  and  iron,  and  that  new  forms 
of  beauty  will  result  from  the  studied  employment  of  these 
materials. 

It  may  be  told  in  a  few  words  how  far  this  is  possible ;  how 
far  eternally  impossible. 

There  are  two  means  of  delight  in  all  productions  of  art — 
color  and  form. 

The  most  vivid  conditions  of  color  attainable  by  human  art 
are  those  of  works  in  glass  and  enamel,  but  not  the  most  per- 
fect. The  best  and  noblest  coloring  possible  to  art  is  that 
attained  by  the  touch  of  the  human  hand  on  an  opaque  sur- 
face, upon  which  it  can  command  any  tint  required,  without 
subjection  to  alteration  by  fire  or  other  mechanical  means. 
No  color  is  so  noble  as  the  color  of  a  good  painting  on  canvas 
or  gesso. 

This  kind  of  color  being,  however,  impossible,  for  the  most 
part,  in  architecture,  the  next  best  is  the  scientific  disposition 
of  the  natural  colors  of  stones,  which  are  far  nobler  than  any 
abstract  hues  producible  by  human  art. 

The  delight  which  we  receive  from  glass  painting  is  one 
altogether  inferior,  and  in  which  we  should  degrade  ourselves 
by  over  indulgence.  Nevertheless,  it  is  possible  that  we  may 
raise  some  palaces  like  Aladdin's  with  colored  glass  for  jewels, 
which  shall  be  new  in  the  annals  of  human  splendor,  and 
good  in  their  place  ;  but  not  if  they  superseded  nobler  edi- 
fices. 

Now,  color  is  producible  either  on  opaque  or  in  transpar- 
ent bodies  :  but  form  is  only  expressible,  in  its  perfection,  on 
opaque  bodies,  without  lustre. 

This  law  is  imperative,  universal,  irrevocable.  No  perfect 
or  refined  form  can  be  expressed  except  in  opaque  and  lustre- 
less matter.  You  cannot  see  the  form  of  a  jewel,  nor,  in  any 
perfection,  even  of  a  cameo  or  bronze.  You  cannot  perfectly 
see  the  form  of  a  humming-bird,  on  account  of  its  burnish- 
ing ;  but  you  can  see  the  form  of  a  swan  perfectly.  No  noble 
work  in  form  can  ever,  therefore,  be  produced  in  transparent 
or  lustrous  glass  or  enamel  All  noble  architecture  depends 


406  THE  BTONE8  OF  VENICE. 

for  its  majesty  on  its  form  :  therefore  you  can  never  have  anj 
noble  architecture  in  transparent  or  lustrous  glass  or  enameL 
Iron  is,  however,  opaque  ;  and  both  it  and  opaque  enamel 
may,  perhaps,  be  rendered  quite  lustreless ;  and,  therefore, 
fit  to  receive  noble  form. 

Let  this  be  thoroughly  done,  and  both  the  iron  and  enamel 
made  fine  in  paste  or  grain,  and  you  may  have  an  architect- 
ure as  noble  as  cast  or  struck  architecture  even  can  be  :  as 
noble,  therefore,  as  coins  can  be,  or  common  cast  bronzes,  and 
such  other  multiplicable  things  ;  * — eternally  separated  from 
all  good  and  great  things  by  a  gulph  which  not  all  the  tubu- 
lar bridges  nor  engineering  of  ten  thousand  nineteenth  cen- 
turies cast  into  one  great  bronze-foreheaded  century,  will  ever 
overpass  one  inch  of.  All  art  which  is  worth  its  room  in  this 
world,  all  art  which  is  not  a  piece  of  blundering  refuse,  occu- 
pying the  foot  or  two  of  earth  which,  if  unencumbered  by  it, 
would  have  grown  corn  or  violets,  or  some  better  thing,  is  art 
which  proceeds  from  an  individual  mind,  working  through  in- 
struments which  assist,  but  do  not  supersede,  the  muscular  action 
of  the  human  hand,  upon  the  materials  which  most  tenderly  re- 
ceive, and  most  securely  retain,  the  impressions  of  such  human 
labor. 

And  the  value  of  every  work  of  art  is  exactly  in  the  ratio  of 
the  quantity  of  humanity  which  has  been  put  into  it,  and  leg- 
ibly expressed  upon  it  for  ever  : — 

First,  of  thought  and  moral  purpose ; 

Secondly,  of  technical  skill ; 

Thirdly,  of  bodily  industry. 

*  Of  course  mere  multiplicability,  as  of  an  engraving,  does  not  dimin- 
ish the  Intrinsic  value  of  the  work  ;  and  if  the  casts  of  sculpture  could 
be  as  sharp  as  the  sculpture  itself,  they  would  hold  to  it  the  relation  of 
value  which  engravings  hold  to  paintings.  And,  if  we  choose  to  have 
our  churches  all  alike,  we  might  cast  them  all  in  bronze — we  might  ac- 
tually coin  churches,  and  have  mints  of  Cathedrals.  It  would  be  worthy 
of  the  spirit  of  the  century  to  put  milled  edges  for  mouldings,  and  have 
a  popular  currency  of  religious  subjects  :  a  new  cast  of  nativities  every 
Christmas.  I  have  not  heard  this  contemplated,  however,  and  I  speak, 
therefore,  only  of  the  results  which  I  believe  are  contemplated,  aa  at- 
tainable by  mere  mechanical  applications  of  glass  and  iron. 


APPENDIX.  407 

The  quantity  of  bodily  industry  which  that  Crystal  Palace 
expresses  is  very  great.  So  far  it  is  good. 

The  quantity  of  thought  it  expresses  is,  I  suppose,  a  single 
and  very  admirable  thought  of  Mr.  Paxton's,  probably  not  a  bit 
brighter  than  thousands  of  thoughts  which  pass  through  his 
active  and  intelligent  brain  every  hour, — that  it  might  be  pos- 
sible to  build  a  greenhouse  larger  than  ever  greenhouse  was 
built  before.  This  thought,  and  some  very  ordinary  algebra, 
are  as  much  as  all  that  glass  can  represent  of  human  intellect. 
"  But  one  poor  half -pennyworth  of  bread  to  all  this  intolerable 
deal  of  sack."  Alas  ! 

"  The  earth  hath  bubbles  as  the  water  hath : 
And  this  is  of  them. " 

18.    EARLY    ENGLISH    CAPITALS. 

The  depth  of  the  cutting  in  some  of  the  early  English  capi- 
tals is,  indeed,  part  of  a  general  system  of  attempts  at  exag- 
gerated force  of  effect,  like  the  "  black  touches  "  of  second-rate 
draughtsmen  which  I  have  noticed  as  characteristic  of  nearly 
all  northern  work,  associated  with  the  love  of  the  grotesque  : 
but  the  main  section  of  the  capital  is  indeed  a  dripstone  rolled 
round,  as  above  described  ;  and  dripstone  sections  are  con- 
tinually found  in  northern  work,  where  not  only  they  cannot 
increase  force  of  effect,  but  are  entirely  invisible  except  on 
close  examination  ;  as,  for  instance,  under  the  uppermost  range 
of  stones  of  the  foundation  of  Whitehall,  or  under  the  slope  of 
the  restored  base  of  All  Souls  College,  Oxford,  under  the  level 
of  the  eye.  I  much  doubt  if  any  of  the  Fellows  be  aware  of 
its  existence. 

Many  readers  will  be  surprised  and  displeased  by  the  dis- 
paragement of  the  early  English  capital.  That  capital  has, 
indeed,  one  character  of  considerable  value  ;  namely,  the  bold- 
ness with  which  it  stops  the  mouldings  which  fall  upon  it,  and 
severs  them  from  the  shaft,  contrasting  itself  with  the  multi- 
plicity of  their  vertical  lines.  Sparingly  used,  or  seldom  seen, 
it  is  thus,  in  its  place,  not  unpleasing  ;  and  we  English  love  it 
from  association,  it  being  always  found  in  connection  with  our 


408  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

purest  and  loveliest  Gothic  arches,  and  never  in  multitude! 
large  enough  to  satiate  the  eye  with  its  form.  The  reader 
who  sits  in  the  Temple  church  every  Sunday,  and  sees  no 
architecture  during  the  week  but  that  of  Chancery  Lane,  may 
most  justifiably  quarrel  with  me  for  what  I  have  said  of  it 
But  if  every  house  in  Fleet  Street  or  Chancery  Lane  were 
Gothic,  and  all  had  early  English  capitals,  I  would  answer  foi 
his  making  peace  with  me  in  a  fortnight. 

19.    TOMBS   NEAR    ST.    ANA8TASIA. 

Whose  they  are,  is  of  little  consequence  to  the  reader  or  o 
me,  and  I  have  taken  no  pains  to  discover  ;  their  value  being 
not  in  any  evidence  they  bear  respecting  dates,  but  in  their 
intrinsic  merit  as  examples  of  composition.  Two  of  them  are 
within  the  gate,  one  on  the  top  of  it,  and  this  latter  is  on  the 
whole  the  best,  though  all  are  beautiful ;  uniting  the  intense 
northern  energy  in  their  figure  sculpture  with  the  most  serene 
classical  restraint  in  their  outlines,  and  unaffected,  but  mas- 
culine simplicity  of  construction. 

I  have  not  put  letters  to  the  diagram  of  the  lateral  arch  at 
page  158,  in  order  not  to  interfere  with  the  clearness  of  the 
curves,  but  I  shall  always  express  the  same  points  by  the  same 
letters,  whenever  I  have  to  give  measures  of  arches  of  this 
simple  kind,  so  that  the  reader  need  never  have  the  diagrams 
lettered  at  all.  The  base  or  span  of  the  centre  arch  will 
always  be  a  b  ;  its  vertex  will  always  be  V  ;  the  points  of  the 
cusps  will  be  c  c  ;  p  p  will  be  the  bases  of  perpendiculars  let 
fall  from  V  and  c  on  a  b  ;  and  d  the  base  of  a  perpendicular 
from  the  point  of  the  cusp  to  the  arch  line.  Then  a  b  will 
always  be  a  span  of  the  arch,  V  p  its  perpendicular  height,  V 
a  the  chord  of  its  side  arcs,  d  c  the  depth  of  its  cusps,  c  c  the 
horizontal  interval  between  the  cusps,  a  c  the  length  of  the 
chord  of  the  lower  arc  of  the  cusp,  V  c  the  length  of  the  chord 
of  the  upper  arc  of  the  cusp,  (whether  continuous  or  not,)  and 
c  p  the  length  of  a  perpendicular  from  the  point  of  the  cusp 
on  a  b. 

Of  course  we  do  not  want  all  these  measures  for  a  single 
arch,  but  it  often  happens  that  some  of  them  are  attainable 


APPENDIX.  409 

more  easily  than  others  ;  some  are  often  unattainable  al- 
together, and  it  is  necessary  therefore  to  have  expressions  for 
whichever  we  may  be  able  to  determine. 

V  p  or  V  a,  a  b,  and  d  c  are  always  essential ;  then  either  a 
c  and  V  c  or  c  c  and  c  p  ••  when  I  have  my  choice,  I  always 
take  a  6,  V  p,  d  c,  c  c,  and  c  p,  but  c  p  is  not  to  be  generally 
obtained  so  accurately  as  the  cusp  arcs. 

The  measures  of  the  present  arch  are : 

Ft.  In. 
a  b,     3  „  8 

Vj>,  4,,  0 

Vc,  2  ,,4* 

ac,  2,,0± 

dc,  0  „  3£ 

20.    SHAFTS    OF   DUCAL   PALACE. 

The  shortness  of  the  thicker  ones  at  the  angles  is  induced 
by  the  greater  depth  of  the  enlarged  capitals  :  thus  the  36th 
shaft  is  10  ft.  4^  in.  in  circumference  at  its  base,  and  10  ,,  0£  * 
in  circumference  under  the  fillet  of  its  capital ;  but  it  is  only 
6  „  If  high,  while  the  minor  intermediate  shafts,  of  which  the 
thickest  is  7  „  8  round  at  the  base,  and  7  „  4  under  capital, 
are  yet  on  the  average  7  ,,  7  high.  The  angle  shaft  towards 
the  sea  (the  18th)  is  nearly  of  the  proportions  of  the  36th,  and 
there  are  three  others,  the  15th,  24th,  and  26th,  which  are 
thicker  than  the  rest,  though  not  so  thick  as  the  angle  ones. 
The  24tb  and  26th  have  both  party  walls  to  bear,  and  I 
imagine  the  15th  must  in  old  time  have  carried  another, 
reaching  across  what  is  now  the  Sala  del  Gran  Consiglio. 

They  measure  respectively  round  at  the  base, 

The  15th,  8  „  2 
24th,  9  „  6£ 
26th,  8  „  0£ 

*  I  shall  often  have  occasion  to  write  measures  in  the  current  t»rt, 
therefore  the  reader  will  kindly  understand  that  whenever  they  are  thn* 
written,  2  ,,  2,  with  double  commas  between  the  first  figures  stand  tot 
English  feet,  the  second  for  English  inches. 


410  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

The  other  pillars  towards  the  sea,  and  those  to  the  27th  in- 
clusive of  the  Piazzetta,  are  all  seven  feet  round  at  the  base, 
and  then  there  is  a  most  curious  and  delicate  crescendo  of 
circumference  to  the  36th,  thus  : 

The  28th,  7  „  3  The  33rd,    7  „  6 

29th,  7  „  4  34th,    7  „  8 

80th,  7  „  6  35th,    7  „  8 

31st,  7  „  7  36th,  10  „  4£ 
32nd  7  „  5 

The  shafts  of  the  upper  arcade,  which  are  above  these 
thicker  columns,  are  also  thicker  than  their  companions, 
measuring  on  the  average,  4  „  8£  in  circumference,  while  those 
of  the  sea  fayade,  except  the  29th,  average  4  „  7^  in  circum- 
ference. The  29th,  which  is  of  course  above  the  15th  of 
the  lower  story,  is  5  ,,  5  in  circumference,  which  little  piece 
of  evidence  will  be  of  no  small  value  to  us  by-and-by.  The 
35th'  carries  the  angle  of  the  palace,  and  is  6  „  0  round.  The 
47th,  which  comes  above  the  24th  and  carries  the  party  wall 
of  the  Sala  del  Gran  Consiglio,  is  strengthened  by  a  pilaster  ; 
and  the  51st,  which  comes  over  the  26th,  is  5  „  4|  round, 
or  nearly  the  same  as  the  29th  ;  it  carries  the  party  wall  of 
the  Sala  del  Scrutinio  ;  a  small  room  containing  part  of  St. 
Mark's  library,  coming  between  the  two  saloons ;  a  room 
which,  in  remembrance  of  the  help  I  have  received  in  all  my 
inquiries  from  the  kindness  and  intelligence  of  its  usual  oc- 
cupant, I  shall  never  easily  distinguish  otherwise  than  as  "  Mr. 
Lorenzi's."  * 

I  may  as  well  connect  with  these  notes  respecting  the  ar- 
cades of  the  Ducal  Palace,  those  which  refer  to  Plate  XTV., 
which  represents  one  of  its  spandrila  Every  spandril  of  the 
lower  arcade  was  intended  to  have  been  occupied  by  an  orna- 
ment resembling  the  one  given  in  that  plate.  The  mass  of  the 
building  being  of  Istrian  stone,  a  depth  of  about  two  inches 
is  left  within  the  mouldings  of  the  arches,  rough  hewn,  to 

*  I  cannot  suffer  this  volume  to  close  without  also  thanking  my  kind 
friend,  Mr.  Rawdon  Brown,  for  help  given  me  in  a  thousand  ways  dur- 
ing my  stay  in  Venice  :  but  chiefly  for  his  direction  to  passages  eluoidar 
taty  ot  my  subject  in  the  MSS.  of  St  Mark's  librar/. 


APPENDIX.  411 

receive  the  slabs  of  fine  marble  composing  the  patterns.  J 
cannot  say  whether  the  design  was  ever  completed,  or  the  mar- 
bles have  been  since  removed,  but  there  are  now  only  two 
spandrils  retaining  their  fillings,  and  vestiges  of  them  in  a 
third.  The  two  complete  spandrils  are  on  the  sea  facade, 
above  the  3rd  and  10th  capitals  (vide  method  of  numbering, 
Chap.  I.,  page  44)  ;  that  is  to  say,  connecting  the  2nd  arch 
with  the  3rd,  and  the  9th  with  the  10th.  The  latter  is  the 
one  given  in  Plate  XTV.  The  white  portions  of  it  are  all 
white  marble,  the  dentil  band  surrounding  the  circle  is  in 
coarse  sugary  marble,  which  I  believe  to  be  Greek,  and  never 
found  in  Venice  to  my  recollection,  except  in  work  at  least 
anterior  to  the  fifteenth  century.  The  shaded  fields  charged 
with  the  three  white  triangles  are  of  red  Verona  marble  ;  the 
inner  disc  is  green  serpentine,  and  the  dark  pieces  of  the  ra- 
diating leaves  are  grey  marble.  The  three  triangles  are  equi- 
lateral. The  two  uppermost  are  1  „  5  each  side,  and  the 
lower  1  „  2. 

The  extreme  diameter  of  the  circle  is  3  „  10|- ;  its  field  is 
slightly  raised  above  the  red  marbles,  as  shown  in  the  section 
at  A,  on  the  left.  A  a  is  part  of  the  red  marble  field  ;  a  b  the 
section  of  the  dentil  moulding  let  into  it ;  b  c  the  entire 
breadth  of  the  rayed  zone,  represented  on  the  other  side  of 
the  spandril  by  the  line  C  f ;  c  d  is  the  white  marble  band 
let  in,  with  the  dog-tooth  on  the  face  of  it ;  &  c  is  7f  inches 
across  ;  c  d  3£ ;  and  at  B  are  given  two  joints  of  the  dentil 
(mentioned  above,  in  the  chapter  on  dentils,  as  unique  in 
Venice)  of  their  actual  size.  At  C  is  given  one  of  the  inlaid 
leaves  ;  its  measure  being  (in  inches)  C/7f;  C  h  £  ;  f  g  £  •„ 
f  e  4f ,  the  base  of  the  smaller  leaves  being  of  course  f  e  — 
f  g  =  4.  The  pattern  which  occupies  the  other  spandril  ip 
similar,  except  that  the  field  6  c,  instead  of  the  intersecting 
arcs,  has  only  triangles  of  grey  marble,  arranged  like  rays, 
with  their  bases  towards  the  centre.  There  being  twenty 
round  the  circle,  the  reader  can  of  course  draw  them  for  him- 
self ;  they  being  isosceles,  touching  the  dentil  with  their 
points,  and  being  in  contact  at  their  bases  :  it  has  lost  its 
central  boss.  The  marbles  are,  in  both,  covered  with  a  rusty 


THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

coating,  through  which  it  is  excessively  difficult  to  distinguish 
the  colors  (another  proof  of  the  age  of  the  ornament).  But 
the  white  marbles  are  certainly,  in  places  (except  only  the 
sugary  dentil),  veined  with  purple,  and  the  grey  seem  warmed 
with  green. 

A  trace  of  another  of  these  ornaments  may  be  seen  over  the 
21st  capital ;  but  I  doubt  if  the  marbles  have  ever  been  in- 
serted in  the  other  spandrils,  and  their  want  of  ornament  oc- 
casions the  slight  meagreness  in  the  effect  of  the  lower  story, 
which  is  almost  the  only  fault  of  the  building. 

This  decoration  by  discs,  or  shield-like  ornaments,  is  a 
marked  characteristic  of  Venetian  architecture  in  its  earlier 
ages,  and  is  carried  into  later  times  by  the  Byzantine  Renais- 
sance, already  distinguished  from  the  more  corrupt  forms  of 
Renaissance,  in  Appendix  6.  Of  the  disc  decoration,  so  bor- 
rowed, we  have  already  an  example  in  Plate  L  In  Plate  VIL 
we  have  an  earlier  condition  of  it,  one  of  the  discs  being  there 
sculptured,  the  others  surrounded  by  sculptured  bands  :  here 
we  have,  on  the  Ducal  Palace,  the  most  characteristic  of  all, 
because  likest  to  the  shield,  which  was  probably  the  origin  of 
the  same  ornament  among  the  Arabs,  and  assuredly  among 
the  Greeks.  In  Mr.  Donaldson's  restoration  of  the  gate  of 
the  treasury  of  Atreus,  this  ornament  is  conjecturally  em- 
ployed, and  it  occurs  constantly  on  the  Arabian  buildings  of 
Cairo. 

21.    ANCIENT    REPRESENTATIONS     OP     WATER. 

I  have  long  been  desirous  of  devoting  some  time  to  an  en- 
quiry into  the  effect  of  natural  scenery  upon  the  pagan,  and 
especially  the  Greek,  mind,  and  knowing  that  my  friend,  Mr. 
C.  Newton,  had  devoted  much  thought  to  the  elucidation  of 
the  figurative  and  symbolic  language  of  ancient  art,  I  asked 
him  to  draw  up  for  me  a  few  notes  of  the  facts  which  he  con- 
sidered most  interesting,  as  illustrative  of  its  methods  of  rep- 
r-5seating  nature.  I  suggested  to  him,  for  an  initiative  subject, 
tae  representation  of  water  ;  because  this  is  one  C^  *He  natural 
objects  whose  portraiture  may  most  easily  be  made  a  test  of 
treatment,  for  it  is  one  of  universal  interest,  and  of  mojf 


APPENDIX. 

closely  similar  aspect  in  all  parts  of  the  world  than  any  other. 
Waves,  currents,  and  eddies  are  much  liker  each  other,  every- 
where, than  either  land  or  vegetation.  Rivers  and  lakes,  in- 
deed, differ  widely  from  the  sea,  and  the  clear  Pacific  from 
the  angry  Northern  ocean  ;  but  the  Nile  is  liker  the  Danube 
than  a  knot  of  Nubian  palms  is  to  a  glade  of  the  Black  Forest  ; 
and  the  Mediterranean  is  liker  the  Atlantic  than  the  Campo 
Felice  is  like  Solway  moss. 

Mr.  Newton  has  accordingly  most  kindly  furnished  me  with 
the  following  data.  One  or  two  of  the  types  which  he  describes 
have  been  already  noticed  in  the  main  text ;  but  it  is  well  that 
the  reader  should  again  contemplate  them  in  the  position  which 
they  here  occupy  in  a  general  system.  I  recommend  his  spe- 
cial attention  to  Mr.  Newton's  definitions  of  the  terms  "  figu- 
rative "and  "  symbolic,"  as  applied  to  art,  in  the  beginning  of 
the  paper. 

IN  ancient  art,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  art  of  the  Egyptian, 
Assyrian,  Greek,  and  Roman  races,  water  is,  for  the  most  part, 
represented  conventionally  rather  than  naturally. 

By  natural  representation  is  here  meant  as  just  and  perfect 
an  imitation  of  nature  as  the  technical  means  of  art  will  allow : 
on  the  other  hand,  representation  is  said  to  be  conventional, 
either  when  a  confessedly  inadequate  imitation  is  accepted  in 
default  of  a  better,  or  when  imitation  is  not  attempted  at  all, 
and  it  is  agreed  that  other  modes  of  representation,  those  by 
figures  or  by  symbols,  shall  be  its  substitute  and  equivalent. 

In  figurative  representation  there  is  always  impersonation  ; 
the  sensible  form,  borrowed  by  the  artist  from  organic  life,  ia 
conceived  to  be  actuated  by  a  will,  and  invested  with  such 
mental  attributes  as  constitute  personality. 

The  sensible  symbol,  whether  borrowed  from  organic  or 
from  inorganic  nature,  is  not  a  personification  at  all,  but  the 
conventional  sign  or  equivalent  of  some  object  or  notion,  to 
which  it  may  perhaps  bear  no  visible  resemblance,  but  with 
which  the  intellect  or  the  imagination  has  in  some  way  asso- 
ciated it. 

For  instance,  a  city  may  be  figuratively  represented  as  * 


THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

woman  crowned  with  towers  ;  here  the  artist  has  selected  for 
the  expression  of  his  idea  a  human  form  animated  with  a  wi!3 
and  motives  of  action  analogous  to  those  of  humanity  gener- 
ally. Or,  again,  as  in  Greek  art,  a  bull  may  be  a  figurative  rep- 
resentation of  a  river,  and,  in  the  conception  of  the  artist,  this 
animal  form  may  contain,  and  be  ennobled  by,  a  human  mind 

This  is  still  impersonation  ;  the  form  only  in  which  person- 
ality is  embodied  is  changed. 

Again,  a  dolphin  may  be  used  as  a  symbol  of  the  sea ;  a 
man  ploughing  with  two  oxen  is  a  well-known  symbol  of  a 
Koman  colony.  In  neither  of  these  instances  is  there  imper- 
sonation. The  dolphin  is  not  invested,  like  the  figure  of 
Neptune,  with  any  of  the  attributes  of  the  human  mind  ;  it 
has  animal  instincts,  but  no  will ;  it  represents  to  us  its  native 
element,  only  as  a  part  may  be  taken  for  a  whole. 

Again,  the  man  ploughing  does  not,  like  the  turreted  female 
figure,  personify,  but  rather  typifies  the  town,  standing  as  the 
visible  representation  of  a  real  event,  its  first  foundation.  To 
our  mental  perceptions,  as  to  our  bodily  senses,  this  figure 
seems  no  more  than  man  ;  there  is  no  blending  of  his  personal 
nature  with  the  impersonal  nature  of  the  colony,  no  transfer 
of  attributes  from  the  one  to  the  other. 

Though  the  conventionally  imitative,  the  figurative,  and  the 
symbolic,  are  three  distinct  kinds  of  representation,  they  are 
constantly  combined  in  one  composition,  as  we  shall  see  in 
the  following  examples,  cited  from  the  art  of  successive  races 
in  chronological  order. 

In  Egyptian  art  the  general  representation  of  water  is  the 
.conventionally  imitative.  In  the  British  Museum  are  two  fres- 
coes from  tombs  at  Thebes,  Nos.  177  and  170  :  the  subject  of 
the  first  of  these  is  an  oblong  pond,  ground- plan  and  elevation 
being  strangely  confused  in  the  design.  In  this  pond  water 
is  represented  by  parallel  zigzag  lines,  in  which  fish  are  swim- 
ming about.  On  the  surface  are  birds  and  lotos  flowers  ;  the 
herbage  at  the  edge  of  the  pond  is  represented  by  a  border  of 
symmetrical  fan-shaped  flowers  ;  the  field  beyond  by  rows  of 
trees,  arranged  round  the  sides  of  the  pond  at  right  angles  tc 
each  other,  and  in  defiance  of  all  laws  of  perspective. 


APPENDIX.  415 

In  the  fresco,  No.  170,  we  have  the  representation  of  a  rive* 
with  papyrus  on  its  bank.  Here  the  water  is  rendered  by 
zigzag  lines  arranged  vertically  and  in  parallel  lines,  so  as 
to  resemble  herring-bone  masonry,  thus. 
There  are  fish  in  this  fresco  as  in  the  pre- 
ceding,  and  in  both  each  fish  is  drawn  very 
distinctly,  not  as  it  would  appear  to  the 

eye  viewed  through  water.     The  mode  of 

,  FIG*  LXXJ. 

representing  this  element  in  Egyptian 
painting  is  further  abbreviated  in  their  hieroglyphic  writing, 
where  the  sign  of  water  is  a  zigzag  line  ;  this  line  is.  so  to 
speak,  a  picture  of  water  written  in  short  hand.  In  the  Egyp- 
tian Pantheon  there  was  but  one  aquatic  deity,  the  god  of  the 
Nile  ;  his  type  is,  therefore,  the  only  figurative  representation 
of  water  in  Egyptian  art.  (Birch,  "  Gallery  of  British  Museum 
Antiquities,"  PI.  13.)  In  Assyrian  sculpture  we  have  very  cu- 
rious conventionally  imitative  representations  of  water.  On 
several  of  the  friezes  from  Nimroud  and  Khorsabad,  men  are 
seen  crossing  a  river  in  boats,  or  in  skins,  accompanied  by 
horses  swimming  (see  Layard,  ii.  p.  381).  In  these  scenes  water 
is  represented  by  masses  of  wavy  lines  somewhat  resembling 
tresses  of  hair,  and  terminating  in  curls  or  volutes  ;  these  wavy 
lines  express  the  general  character  of  a  deep  and  rapid  current, 
like  that  of  the  Tigris.  Fish  are  but  sparingly  introduced,  the 
idea  of  surface  being  sufficiently  expressed  by  the  floating 
figures  and  boats.  In  the  representation  of  these  there  is  the 
same  want  of  perspective  as  in  the  Egyptian  fresco  which  we 
have  just  cited. 

In  the  Assyrian  Pantheon  one  aquatic  deity  has  been  dis-> 
covered,  the  god  Dagon,  whose  human  form  terminates  in  a 
fish's  tail.  Of  the  character  and  attributes  of  this  deity  we 
know  but  little. 

The  more  abbreviated  mode  of  representing  water,  the  zig- 
zag line,  occurs  on  the  large  silver  coins  with  the  tyne  of  a 
city  or  a  war  galley  (see  Layard,  ii.  p.  386).  These  coins  were 
probably  struck  in  Assyria,  not  long  after  the  conquest  of  ft 
by  the  Persians. 

In  Greek  art  the  modes  of  representing  water  are  far  mor» 


TEE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

raried.  Two  conventional  imitations,  the  wave  moulding  and 
the  Mseander,  are  well  known.  Both  are  probably  of  the  most 
remote  antiquity ;  both  have  been  largely  employed  as  an 
architectural  ornament,  and  subordinately  as  a  decoration  of 
vases,  costume,  furniture  and  implements.  In  the  wave  mould- 
ing we  have  a  conventional  representation  of  the  small  crisp- 
ing waves  which  break  upon  the  shore  of  the  Mediterranean, 
the  sea  of  the  Greeks. 

Their  regular  succession,  and  equality  of  force  and  volume, 
are  generalised  in  this  moulding,  while  the  minuter  varieties 
which  distinguish  one  wave  from  another  are  merged  in  the 
general  type.  The  character  of  ocean  waves  is  to  be  "for  ever 
changing,  yet  the  same  for  ever ; "  it  is  this  eternity  of  recur- 
rence which  the  early  artist  has  expressed  in  this  hiero- 
glyphic. 

With  this  profile  representation  of  water  may  be  compared 
the  sculptured  waves  out  of  which  the  head  and  arms  of  Hype- 
rion are  rising  in  the  pediment  of  the  Parthenon  (Elgin  Room, 
No.  (65)  91,  Museum  Marbles,  vi  pi.  1).  Phidias  has  repre- 
sented these  waves  like  a  mass  of  overlapping  tiles,  thus  gen- 
eralising their  rippling  movement.  In  the  Mseander  pattern 
the  graceful  curves  of  nature  are  represented  by  angles,  as  in 
the  Egyptian  hieroglyphic  of  water  :  so  again  the  earliest  rep- 
resentation of  the  labyrinth  on  the  coins  of  the  Cnossus  is 
rectangular  ;  on  later  coins  we  find  the  curvilinear  form  intro- 
duced. 

In  the  language  of  Greek  mythography,  the  wave  pattern 
and  the  Mseander  are  sometimes  used  singly  for  the  idea  of 
water,  but  more  frequently  combined  with  figurative  represen- 
tation. The  number  of  aquatic  deities  in  the  Greek  Pantheon 
led  to  the  invention  of  a  great  variety  of  beautiful  types. 
Some  of  these  are  very  well  known.  Everybody  is  familiar 
with  the  general  form  of  Poseidon  (Neptune),  the  Nereids, 
the  Nymphs  and  River  Gods  ;  but  the  modes  in  which  these 
types  were  combined  with  conventional  imitation  and  with 
accessory  symbols  deserve  careful  study,  if  we  would  appre- 
ciate the  surpassing  richness  and  beauty  of  the  language  of 
^rt  formed  out  of  these  elements. 


APPENDIX.  417 

This  class  of  representations  in  ay  be  divided  into  two  princi- 
pal groups,  those  relating  to  the  sea,  and  those  relating  to  fresh 


The  power  of  the  ocean  and  the  great  features  of  marine 
scenery  are  embodied  in  such«types  as  Poseidon,  Nereus  and 
the  Nereids,  that  is  to  say,  in  human  forms  moving  through  the 
Uquid  element  in  chariots,  or  on  the  back  of  dolphins,  or  who 
combine  the  human  form  with  that  of  the  fish-like  Tritons, 
The  sea-monsters  who  draw  these  chariots  are  called  Hippo- 
camps,  being  composed  of  the  tail  of  a  fish  and  the  fore-part 
of  a  horse,  the  legs  terminating  in  web-feet  :  this  union  seems 
to  express  speed  and  power  under  perfect  control,  such  as 
would  characterise  the  movements  of  sea  deities.  A  few  ex- 
amples have  been  here  selected  to  show  how  these  types  were 
combined  with  symbols  and  conventional  imitation. 

In  the  British  Museum  is  a  vase,  No.  1257,  engraved  (Lenor- 
mant  et  De  Witte,  Mon.  Ceram.,  i.  pi.  27),  of  which  the  sub- 
ject is,  Europa  crossing  the  sea  on  the  back  of  the  bull.  In  this 
design  the  sea  is  represented  by  a  variety  of  expedients. 
First,  the  swimming  action  of  the  bull  suggests  the  idea  of 
the  liquid  medium  through  which  he  moves.  Behind  him 
stands  Nereus,  his  staff  held  perpendicularly  in  his  hand  ;  the 
top  of  his  staff  comes  nearly  to  the  level  of  the  bull's  back,  and 
is  probably  meant  as  the  measure  of  the  whole  depth  of  the 
sea.  Towards  the  surface  line  thus  indicated  a  dolphin  is  ris- 
ing ;  in  the  middle  depth  is  another  dolphin  ;  below  a  shrimp 
and  a  cuttle-fish,  and  the  bottom  is  indicated  by  a  jagged  line 
of  rocks,  on  which  are  two  echini. 

On  a  mosaic  found  at  Oudnah  in  Algeria  (Revue  ArcheoL, 
iii.  pi.  50),  we  have  a  representation  of  the  sea,  remarkable  for 
the  fulness  of  details  with  which  it  is  made  out. 

This,  though  of  the  Roman  period,  is  so  thoroughly  Greek 
hi  feeling,  that  it  ma}'  be  cited  as  an  example  of  the  class  of 
mythography  now  under  consideration.  The  mosaic  lines  the 
floor  and  sides  of  a  bath,  and,  as  was  commonly  the  case  in 
the  baths  of  the  ancients,  serves  as  a  figurative  representation 
of  the  water  it  contained. 

On  the  sides  are  hippocamps,  figures  riding  on  dolphins^ 

Stones  of  Venice—  Vol.  L—  1« 


418  T&t  ST02T38  OF  VENICE. 

and  islands  on  which  fishermen  stand ;  on  the  floor  are  fish, 
crabs,  and  shrimps. 

These,  as  in  the  vase  with  Europa,  indicate  the  bottom  of 
the  sea  :  the  same  symbols  of  the  submarine  world  appear  on 
many  other  ancient  designs.  Thus  in  vase  pictures,  when 
Poseidon  upheaves  the  island  of  Cos  to  overwhelm  the  Giant 
Polydotes,  the  island  is  represented  as  an  immense  mass  of 
rock  ;  the  parts  which  have  been  under  water  are  indicated  by 
a  dolphin,  a  shrimp,  and  a  sepia,  the  parts  above  the  water  by 
a  goat  and  a  serpent  (Lenormant  et  De  Witte,  L,  tav.  5). 

Sometimes  these  symbols  occur  singly  in  Greek  art,  as  the 
types,  for  instance,  of  coins.  In  such  cases  they  cannot  be  in- 
terpreted without  being  viewed  in  relation  to  the  whole  con- 
text of  mythography  to  which  they  belong.  If  we  find,  for 
example,  on  one  coin  of  Tarentum  a  shell,  on  another  a  dol- 
phin, on  a  third  a  figure  of  Tarus,  the  mythic  founder  of  the 
town,  riding  on  a  dolphin  in  the  midst  of  the  waves,  and  this 
latter  group  expresses  the  idea  of  the  town  itself  and  its  posi- 
tion on  the  coast,  then  we  know  the  two  former  types  to  b 
but  portions  of  the  greater  design,  having  been  detached  from 
it,  as  we  may  detach  words  from  sentences. 

The  study  of  the  fuller  and  clearer  examples,  such  as  we 
have  cited  above,  enables  us  to  explain  many  more  compendi- 
ous forms  of  expression.  We  have,  for  instance,  oix  coins 
several  representations  of  ancient  harbors. 

Of  these,  the  earliest  occurs  on  the  coins  of  Zancle,  the 
modern  Messina  in  Sicily.  The  ancients  likened  the  form  of 
this  harbor  to  a  sickle,  and  on  the  coins  of  the  town  we  find 
a  curved  object,  within  the  area  of  which  is  a  dolphin.  On 
this  curve  are  four  square  elevations  placed  at  equal  distancea 
It  has  been  conjectured  that  these  projections  are  either  towers 
or  the  large  stones  to  which  galleys  were  moored  still  to  be 
seen  in  ancient  harbors  (see  Burgon,  Numismatic  Chronicle, 
iii.  p.  40).  With  this  archaic  representation  of  a  harbor  may 
be  compared  some  examples  of  the  Roman  period.  On  a  coin 
of  Sept.  Severus  struck  at  Corinth  (Millingen,  Sylloge  of 
Uned.  Coins,  1837,  p.  57,  PL  IL  No.  30)  we  have  a  female  fig- 
nre  standing  on  a  rock  between  two  recumbent  male  figure* 


APPENDIX.  419 

holding  ruddera  From  an  arch  at  the  foot  of  the  rock  a 
stream  is  flowing  :  this  is  a  representation  of  the  rock  of  the 
Acropolis  of  Corinth  ;  the  female  figure  is  a  statue  of  Aphro- 
dite, whose  temple  surmounted  the  rock.  The  stream  is  the 
fountain  Pirene.  The  two  recumbent  figures  are  impersona- 
tions of  the  two  harbors,  Lechreum  and  Cenchreia,  between 
•which  Corinth  was  situated.  Philostratus  (Icon,  ii.,  c.  16)  de- 
scribes a  similar  picture  of  the  Isthmus  between  the  two  harbors, 
one  of  which  was  in  the  form  of  a  youth,  the  other  of  a  nymph. 

On  another  coin  of  Corinth  we  have  one  of  the  harbors  in  a 
semicircular  form,  the  whole  arc  being  marked  with  small 
equal  divisions,  to  denote  the  archways  under  which  the  an« 
cient  galleys  were  drawn,  subductce  ;  at  the  either  horn  or  ex- 
tremity of  the  harbor  is  a  temple  ;  in  the  centre  of  the  mouth, 
a  statue  of  Neptune.  (Millingen,  Medailles  Ined.,  PL  IL,  No. 
19.  Compare  also  Millingen,  Ancient  Coins  of  Cities  and 
Kings,  1831,  pp.  50—61,  PL  IV.,  No.  15  ;  Mionnet,  Suppl. 
vii.  p.  79,  No.  246  ;  and  the  harbor  of  Ostium,  on  the  large 
brass  coins  of  Nero,  in  which  there  is  a  representation  of  the 
Roman  fleet  and  a  reclining  figure  of  Neptune.) 

In  vase  pictures  we  have  occasionally  an  attempt  to  represent 
water  naturally.  On  a  vase  in  the  British  Museum  (No.  785), 
of  which  the  subject  is  Ulysses  and  the  Sirens,  the  Sea  is  ren- 
dered by  wavy  lines  drawn  in  black  on  a  red  ground,  and 
something  like  the  effect  of  light  playing  on  the  surface  of  the 
water  is  given.  On  each  side  of  the  ship  are  shapeless  masses 
of  rock  on  which  the  Sirens  stand. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  figurative  representations 
of  the  sea  is  the  well-Known  type  of  Scylla,  She  has  a  beau- 
tiful body,  terminating  in  two  barking  dogs  and  two  serpent 
tails.  Sometimes  drowning  men,  the  rari  nantes  in  gurgite 
vasto,  appear  caught  up  in  the  coils  of  these  tails.  Below  are 
dolphins.  Scylla  generally  brandishes  a  rudder  to  show  the 
manner  in  which  she  twists  the  course  of  ships.  For  varieties 
of  her  type  see  Monum.  dell'  Inst.  ArcheoL  Rom.,  iii.  Taw. 
52—3. 

The  representations  of  fresh  water  may  be  arranged  under 
the  following  heads — rivers,  lakes,  fountains. 


THE  STONES  OF   VENTVS. 

There  are  several  figurative  modes  of  representing  riven 
very  frequently  employed  in  ancient  mythography. 

In  'the  type  which  occurs  earliest  we  have  the  human  form 
combined  with  that  of  the  bull  in  several  ways.  On  an  archaia 
coin  of  Metapontum  in  Lucania,  (see  frontispiece  to  Millingen, 
Ancient  Coins  of  Greek  Cities  and  Kings,)  the  river  Achelous 
is  represented  with  the  figure  of  a  man  with  a  shaggy  beard 
and  bull's  horns  and  ears.  On  a  vase  of  the  best  period  of 
Greek  art  (Brit.  Mus.  No.  789  ;  Birch,  Trans.  Boy.  Soc.  of 
Lit.,  New  Series,  Lond.  1843,  i.  p.  100)  the  same  river  is  rep- 
resented with  a  satyr's  head  and  long  bull's  horns  on  the^  fore- 
head ;  his  form,  human  to  the  waist,  terminates  in  a  fish's  tail  ; 
his  hair  falls  down  his  back  ;  his  beard  is  long  and  shaggy. 
In  this  type  we  see  a  combination  of  the  three  forms  sepa- 
rately enumerated  by  Sophocles,  in  the  commencement  of  the 
Trachinise. 


os  /A*  ev  rpurlv  /iop^aicriv  e£r/T€i  irarpos, 
^KHTuiv  evapyiys  aupos  oAAor 
Spa/cwv  eXiKTOs,    aAAor'  avSpeiu> 
jSoiwrpwpos,    IK  Se  SCUTKIOU  yei/eiaSos 
Kpowol  SieppaiVojro  Kprjvaiov  TTOTOV. 

In  a  third  variety  of  this  type  the  human-headed  body  ia 
united  at  the  waist  with  the  shoulders  of  a  bull's  body,  in 
which  it  terminates.  This  occurs  on  an  early  vase.  (Brit. 
Mus.,  No.  452.)  On  the  coins  of  (Eniadae  in  Acarnia,  and  on 
those  of  Ambracia,  all  of  the  period  after  Alexander  the  Great, 
the  Achelous  has  a  bull's  body,  and  head  with  a  human  face. 
In  this  variety  of  the  type  the  human  element  is  almost  ab« 
sorbed,  as  in  the  first  variety  cited  above,  the  coin  of  Meta 
pontum,  the  bull  portion  of  the  type  is  only  indicated  by  the 
addition  of  the  horns  and  ears  to  the  human  head.  On  the 
analogy  between  these  varieties  in  the  type  of  the  Achelous  and 
those  under  which  the  metamorphoses  of  the  marine  goddess 
Thetis  are  represented,  see  Gerhard,  Auserl  Vasenb.  ii.  pp. 
106—113.  It  is  probable  that,  in  the  type  of  Thetis,  of  Pro- 
teus, and  also  of  the  Achelous,  the  singular  combinations  and 


APPENDIX. 

transformations  are  intended  to  express  the  changeful  nat- 
ure of  the  element  water. 

Numerous  other  examples  may  be  cited,  where  rivers  are 
represented  by  this  combination  of  the  bull  and  human  form, 
which  may  be  called,  for  convenience,  the  Androtauric  type. 
On  the  coins  of  Sicily,  of  the  archaic  and  also  of  the  finest 
period  of  art,  rivers  are  most  usually  represented  by  a  youth  - 
ful  male  figure,  with  small  budding  horns ;  the  hair  has  the 
lank  and  matted  form  which  characterises  aquatic  deities  in 
Greek  mythography.  The  name  of  the  river  is  often  inscribed 
round  the  head.  When  the  whole  figure  occurs  on  the  coin, 
it  is  always  represented  standing,  never  reclining. 

The  type  of  the  bull  on  the  coins  of  Sybaris  and  Thurium, 
in  Magna  Graecia,  has  been  considered,  with  great  probability, 
a  representation  of  this  kind.  On  the  coins  of  Sybaris,  which 
are  of  a  very  early  period,  the  head  of  the  bull  is  turned 
round  ;  on  those  of  Thurium,  he  stoops  his  head,  butting : 
the  first  of  these  actions  has  been  thought  to  symbolise  the 
winding  course  of  the  river,  the  second,  its  headlong  current. 
On  the  coins  of  Thurium,  the  idea  of  water  is  further  sug- 
gested by  the  adjunct  of  dolphins  and  other  fish  in  the  ex- 
ergue of  the  coin.  The  ground  on  which  the  bull  stands  is 
indicated  by  herbage  or  pebbles.  This  probably  represents 
the  river  bank.  Two  bulls'  head  occur  on  the  coins  of  Sardis, 
and  it  has  been  ingeniously  conjectured  by  Mr.  Burgon  that 
the  two  rivers  of  the  place  are  expressed  under  this  type. 

The  representation  of  river-gods  as  human  figures  in  a  re- 
clining position,  though  probably  not  so  much  employed  in 
earlier  Greek  art  as  the  Androtauric  type,  is  very  much  more 
familiar  to  us,  from  its  subsequent  adoption  in  Roman  my- 
thography. The  earliest  example  we  have  of  a  reclining  river- 
god  is  in  the  figure  in  the  Elgin  Boom  commonly  called  the 
BISSJIS,  but  more  probably  the  Cephissus.  This  occupied  one 
angle  in  the  western  pediment  of  the  Parthenon  ;  the  other 
Athenian  river,  the  Hissus,  and  the  fountain  Callirrhoe  being 
represented  by  a  male  and  female  figure  in  the  opposite  angle  ; 
this  group,  now  destroyed,  is  visible  in  the  drawing  made  \>j 
Carrey  in  1678. 


422  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

It  is  probable  that  the  necessities  of  pedimental  compoal 
tion  first  led  the  artist  to  place  the  river-god  in  a  reclining 
position.  The  head  of  the  Hissus  being  broken  off,  we  are 
not  sure  whether  he  had  bull's  horns,  like  the  Sicilian  figures 
already  described.  His  form  is  youthful,  in  the  folds  of  the 
drapery  behind  him  there  is  a  flow  like  that  of  waves,  but  the 
idea  of  water  is  not  suggested  by  any  other  symbol.  When 
we  compare  this  figure  with  that  of  the  Nile  (Visconti,  Mus. 
Pio  Clem.,  i,  PL  38),  and  the  figure  of  the  Tiber  in  the 
Louvre,  both  of  which  are  of  the  Roman  period,  we  see  how 
in  these  later  types  the  artist  multiplied  symbols  and  acces- 
sories, ingrafting  them  on  the  original  simple  type  of  the 
river-god,  as  it  was  conceived  by  Phidias  in  the  figure  of  the 
Hissus.  The  Nile  is  represented  as  a  colossal  bearded  figure 
reclining.  At  his  side  is  a  cornucopia,  full  of  the  vegetable 
produce  of  the  Egyptian  soil  Bound  his  body  are  sixteen 
naked  boys,  who  represent  the  sixteen  cubits,  the  height  to 
which  the  river  rose  in  a  favorable  year.  The  statue  is  placed 
on  a  basement  divided  into  three  compartments,  one  above 
another.  In  the  uppermost  of  these,  waves  are  flowing  over 
in  one  great  sheet  from  the  side  of  the  river-god.  In  the 
other  two  compartments  are  the  animals  and  plants  of  the 
river ;  the  bas-reliefs  on  this  basement  are,  in  fact,  a  kind  of 
abbreviated  symbolic  panorama  of  the  Nile. 

The  Tiber  is  represented  in  a  very  similar  manner.  On  the 
base  are,  in  two  compartments,  scenes  taken  from  the  early 
Roman  myths ;  flocks,  herds,  and  other  objects  on  the  banks 
of  the  river.  (Visconti,  Mus.  P.  01.  i,  PL  39  ;  Millin,  Galerie 
MythoL,  i.  p.  77,  PL  74,  Nos.  304,  308.) 

In  the  types  of  the  Greek  coins  of  Camarina,  we  find  two 
interesting  representations  of  Lakes.  On  the  obverse  of  one 
of  these  we  have,  within  a  circle  of  the  wave  pattern,  a  male 
bead,  full  face,  with  dishevelled  hair,  and  with  a  dolphin  on 
either  side  ;  on  the  reverse  a  female  figure  sailing  on  a  swan, 
below  which  a  wave  moulding,  and  above,  a  dolphin. 

On  another  coin  the  swan  type  of  the  reverse  is  associated 
with  the  youthful  head  of  a  river-god,  inscribed  "Hipparis" 
on  the  obverse.  On  some  smaller  coins  we  have  the  swwt 


APPENDIX.  424 

flying  over  the  rippling  waves,  which  are  represented  by  the 
wave  moulding.  When  we  examine  the  chart  of  Sicily,  made 
by  the  Admiralty  survey,  we  find  marked  down  at  Camarina, 
a  lake  through  which  the  river  Hipparis  flows. 

We  can  hardly  doubt  that  the  inhabitants  of  Camarina  rep- 
resented both  their  river  and  their  lakes  on  their  coins.  The 
swan  flying  over  the  waves  would  represent  a  lake  ;  the  figure 
associated  with  it  being  no  doubt  the  Aphrodite  worshipped 
at  that  place  :  the  head,  in  a  circle  of  wave  pattern,  may  ex- 
press that  part  of  the  river  which  flows  through  the  lake. 

Fountains  are  usually  represented  by  a  stream  of  water  issu- 
ing from  a  lion's  head  in  the  rock :  see  a  vase  (Gerhard,  AuserL 
Vasenb.,  taf.  cxxxiv.),  where  Hercules  stands,  receiving  a 
shower-bath  from  a  hot  spring  at  Thermae  in  Sicily.  On  the 
coins  of  Syracuse  the  fountain  Arethusa  is  represented  by  a 
female  head  seen  to  the  front ;  the  flowing  lines  of  her  dishev- 
elled hair  suggest,  though  they  do  not  directly  imitate,  the 
bubbling  action  of  the  fresh-water  spring ;  the  sea  in  which 
it  rises  is  symbolized  by  the  dolphins  round  the  head.  This 
type  presents  a  striking  analogy  with  that  of  the  Camarina  head 
in  the  circle  of  wave  pattern  described  above. 

These  are  the  principal  modes  of  representing  water  in  Greek 
mythography .  In  the  art  of  the  Roman  period,  the  same  kind 
of  figurative  and  symbolic  language  is  employed,  but  there  is 
a  constant  tendency  to  multiply  accessories  and  details,  as  we 
have  shown  in  the  later  representations  of  harbors  and  river- 
gods  cited  above.  In  these  crowded  compositions  the  eye  is 
fatigued  and  distracted  by  the  quantity  it  has  to  examine  ;  the 
language  of  art  becomes  more  copious  but  less  terse  and  em- 
phatic, and  addresses  itself  to  minds  far  less  intelligent  than 
the  refined  critics  who  were  the  contemporaries  of  Phidias. 

Rivers  in  Roman  art  are  usually  represented  by  reclining 
male  figures,  generally  bearded,  holding  reeds  or  other  plants 
in  their  hands,  and  leaning  on  urns  from  which  water  is  flow- 
ing. On  the  coins  of  many  Syrian  cities,  struck  in  imperial 
times,  the  city  is  represented  by  a  turreted  female  figure  seated 
on  rocks,  and  resting  her  feet  on  the  shoulder  of  a  youthful 
male  figure,  who  looks  up  in  her  face,  stretching  out  his  arm* 


424  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

and  who  is  sunk  in  the  ground  as  high  as  the  waist  See 
Miiller  (Denb:*aaler  d.  A.  Kunst,  i,  taf.  49,  No  220)  for  a  group 
of  this  kind  in  the  Vatican,  and  several  similar  designs  on 
coins. 

On  the  column  of  Trajan  there  occur  many  rude  representa- 
tions of  the  Danube,  and  other  rivers  crossed  by  the  Romans 
in  their  military  expeditions.  The  water  is  imitated  by  sculpt- 
ured wavy  lines,  in  which  boats  are  placed.  In  one  scene 
(Bartoli,  Colonna  Trajana,  Tav.  4)  this  rude  conventional  imi- 
tation is  combined  with  a  figure.  In  a  recess  in  the  river 
bank  is  a  reclining  river-god,  terminating  at  the  waist.  This 
is  either  meant  for  a  statue  which  was  really  placed  on  the 
bank  of  the  river,  and  which  therefore  marks  some  particular 
locality,  or  we  have  here  figurative  representation  blended 
with  conventional  imitation. 

On  the  column  of  Antoninus  (Bartoli,  Colon.  Anton.,  Tav. 
15)  a  storm  of  rain  is  represented  by  the  head  of  Jupiter  Plu- 
vius,  who  has  a  vast  outspread  beard  flowing  in  long  tresses. 
In  the  Townley  collection,  in  the  British  Museum,  is  a  Roman 
helmet  found  at  Ribchester  in  Lancashire,  with  a  mask  or  vizor 
attached.  The  helmet  is  richly  embossed  with  figures  in  a 
battle  scene  ;  round  the  brow  is  a  row  of  turrets ;  the  hair  on 
the  forehead  is  so  treated  as  to  give  the  idea  of  waves  washing 
the  base  of  the  turrets.  This  head  is  perhaps  a  figurative  rep- 
resentation of  a  town  girt  with  fortifications  and  a  moat,  near 
which  some  great  battle  was  fought.  It  is  engraved  (Vetusta 
Monum.  of  Soc.  Ant.  London,  iv.,  PL  1-4). 

In  the  Galeria  at  Florence  is  a  group  in  alto  relievo  (Gori, 
Inscript,  Ant.  Flor.  1727,  p.  76.  Tab.  14)  of  three  female 
figures,  one  of  whom  is  certainly  Demeter  Kourotrophos,  or 
the  earth  ;  another,  Thetis,  or  the  sea  ;  the  centre  of  the  three 
seems  to  represent  Aphrodite  associated,  as  on  the  coins  of 
Camarina,  with  the  element  of  fresh  water. 

This  figure  is  seated  on  a  swan,  and  holds  over  her  head  an 
arched  veil.  Her  hair  is  bound  with  reeds ;  above  her  veil 
grows  a  tall  water  plant,  and  below  the  swan  other  water 
plants,  and  a  stork  seated  on  a  hydria,  or  pitcher,  from  which 
water  is  flowing.  The  swan,  the  stork,  the  water  plants,  a&j 


APPENDIX.  425 

the  hydria  must  all  be  regarded  as  symbols  of  fresh  water,  the 
latter  emblem  being  introduced  to  show  that  the  element  is 
fit  for  the  use  of  man. 

Fountains  in  Roman  art  are  generally  personified  as  figures 
of  nymphs  reclining  with  urns,  or  standing  holding  before 
them  a  large  shell. 

One  of  the  latest  representations  of  water  in  ancient  art  is 
the  mosaic  of  Palestrina  (Barthelemy,  in  Bartoli,  Feint.  An- 
tiques) which  may  be  described  as  a  kind  of  rude  panorama 
of  some  district  of  Upper  Egypt,  a  bird's-eye  view,  half  man, 
half  picture,  in  which  the  details  are  neither  adjusted  to  a 
scale,  nor  drawn  according  to  perspective,  but  crowded  to- 
gether, as  they  would  be  in  an  ancient  bas-relief. 

22.    ABABTAN   ORNAMENTATION. 

I  do  not  mean  what  I  have  here  said  of  the  Inventive  power 
of  the  Arab  to  be  understood  as  in  the  least  applying  to  the 
detestable  ornamentation  of  the  Alhambra.*  The  Alhambra 
is  no  more  characteristic  of  Arab  work,  than  Milan  Cathedral 
is  of  Gothic  :  it  is  a  late  building,  a  work  of  the  Spanish  dy- 
nasty in  its  last  decline,  and  its  ornamentation  is  fit  for  noth- 
ing but  to  be  transferred  to  patterns  of  carpets  or  bindings  of 
books,  together  with  their  marbling,  and  mottling,  and  other 
mechanical  recommendations.  The  Alhambra  ornament  has 
of  late  been  largely  used  in  shop-fronts,  to  the  no  small  detri- 
ment of  Regent  Street  and  Oxford  Street. 

23.   VARIETIES  OF  CHAMFER. 

Let  BAG,  Fig.  LXXH,  be  the  original  angle  of  the  wall. 
Inscribe  within  it  a  circle,  p  Q  N  p,  of  the  size  of  the  bead 
required,  touching  A  B,  A  C,  inp,p;  joinp,p,  and  draw  B  C 
parallel  to  it,  touching  the  circle. 

Then  the  lines  B  C,  p  p  are  the  limits  of  the  possible  cham- 
fers constructed  with  curves  struck  either  from  centre  A,  as 

*  I  have  not  seen  the  building  itself,  but  Mr.  Owen  Jones's  work  may, 
{  suppose,  be  considered  as  sufficiently  representing  it  for  all  purpose* 
tf.  criticism. 


426 


THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 


the  line  Q  q,  N  d,  r  u,  g  c,  &c.,  or  from  any  other  point  chose* 
as  a  centre  in  the  direction  Q  A  produced :  and  also  of  all 
chamfers  in  straight  lines,  a  b,  ef.  There  are,  of  course,  an 
infinite  number  of  chamfers  to  be  struck  between  B  C  andpp, 
from  every  point  in  Q  A  produced  to  infinity  ;  thus  we  have 
infinity  multiplied  into  infinity  to  express  the  number  ef  pos- 
sible chamfers  of  this  species,  which  are  peculiarly  Italian 
chamfers ;  together  with  another  singly  infinite  group  of  the 
etraight  chamfers,  a  b,  ef,  &c.,  of  which  the  one  formed  by 


the  line  a  b,  passing  through  the  centre  of  the  circle,  is  the 
universal  early  Gothic  chamfer  of  Venice. 

Again.  Either  on  the  line  A  C,  or  on  any  other  lines  A I  or 
A  m,  radiating  from  A,  any  number  of  centres  may  be  taken, 
from  which,  with  any  radii  not  greater  than  the  distance  be- 
tween such  points  and  Q,  an  infinite  number  of  curves  may  be 
struck,  such  as  t  u,  r  s,  N  n  (all  which  are  here  struck  from 
centres  on  the  line  A  C).  These  lines  represent  the  greal 


APPENDIX.  437 

class  of  the  northern  chamfers,  of  which  the  number  is  infinity 
raised  to  its  fourth  power,  but  of  which  the  curve  N  n  (for 
northern)  represents  the  average  condition  ;  the  shallowed 
chamfers  of  the  same  group,  r  s,  t  u,  &c.,  occurring  often  in 
Italy.  The  lines  r  u,  t  u,  and  a  b  may  be  taken  approximat- 
ing to  the  most  frequent  conditions  of  the  southern  chamfer. 
It  is  evident  that  the  chords  of  any  of  these  curves  will  give 
a  relative  group  of  rectilinear  chamfers,  occurring  both  in  the 
North  and  South  ;  but  the  rectilinear  chamfers,  I  think,  invari- 
ably fall  within  the  line  Q  C,  and  are  either  parallel  with  it, 
or  inclined  to  A  C  at  an  angle  greater  than  A  C  Q,  and  often 
perpendicular  to  it ;  but  never  inclined  to  it  at  an  angle  less 
than  A  C  Q. 

24.    RENAISSANCE  BASES. 

The  following  extract  from  my  note-book  refers  also  to  some 
features  of  late  decoration  of  shafts. 

"  The  Scuola  di  San  Bocco  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
examples  of  Renaissance  work  in  Venice.  Its  fluted  pillars 
are  surrounded  each  by  a  wreath,  one  of  vine,  another  of  lau- 
rel, another  of  oak,  not  indeed  arranged  with  the  fantasticism 
of  early  Gothic ;  but,  especially  the  laurel,  reminding  one 
strongly  of  the  laurel  sprays,  powerful  as  well  as  beautiful,  of 
Veronese  and  Tintoret.  Their  stems  are  curiously  and  richly 
interlaced — the  last  vestige  of  the  Byzantine  wreathed  work 
— and  the  vine-leaves  are  ribbed  on  the  surfaces,  I  f.Tn'nfc, 
nearly  as  finely  as  those  of  the  Noah,*  though  more  injured 
by  time.  The  capitals  are  far  the  richest  Renaissance  in  Ven- 
ice, less  corrupt  and  more  masculine  in  plan,  than  any  other, 
and  truly  suggestive  of  support,  though  of  course  showing  the 
tendency  to  error  in  this  respect ;  and  finally,  at  the  angles 
of  the  pure  Attic  bases,  on  the  square  plinth,  are  set  couch- 
ant  animals  ;  one,  an  elephant  four  inches  high,  very  curiously 
and  cleverly  cut,  and  all  these  details  worked  with  a  spirit, 
finish,  fancy,  and  affection  quite  worthy  of  the  middle  ages. 

*  The  sculpture  of  the  Drunkenness  of  Noah  on  the  Ducal  Palace,  of 
which  we  shall  have  much  to  say  hereafter. 


128  THE  STONES  OF  VENICE. 

But  they  have  all  the  marked  fault  of  being  utterly  detached 
from  the  architecture.  The  wreaths  round  the  columns  look  as 
if  they  would  drop  off  the  next  moment,  and  the  animals  at 
the  bases  produce  exactly  the  effect  of  mice  who  had  got  there 
by  accident:  one  feels  them  ridiculously  diminutive,  and 
utterly  useless." 

The  effect  of  diminutiveness  is,  I  think,  chiefly  owing  tc 
there  being  no  other  groups  of  figures  near  them,  to  accustom 
the  eye  to  the  proportion,  and  to  the  needless  choice  of  the 
largest  animals,  elephants,  bears,  and  lions,  to  occupy  a  posi- 
tion so  completely  insignificant,  and  to  be  expressed  on  so 
contemptible  a  scale, — not  in  a  bas-relief  or  pictorial  piece  of 
sculpture,  but  as  independent  figures.  The  whole  building 
is  a  most  curious  illustration  of  the  appointed  fate  of  the  Re- 
naissance architects, — to  caricature  whatever  they  imitated, 
and  misapply  whatever  they  learned. 

25.    EOMANIST   DECORATION   OP    BASES. 

I  have  spoken  above  (Appendix  12)  of  the  way  in  which  the 
Roman  Catholic  priests  everywhere  suffer  their  churches  to  be 
desecrated.  But  the  worst  instances  I  ever  saw  of  sacrilege 
and  brutality,  daily  permitted  in  the  face  of  all  men,  were  the 
uses  to  which  the  noble  base  of  St.  Mark's  was  put,  when  I 
was  last  in  Venice.  Portions  of  nearly  all  cathedrals  may  be 
found  abandoned  to  neglect ;  but  this  base  of  St.  Mark's  is  in 
no  obscure  position.  Full  fronting  the  western  sun — crossing 
the  whole  breadth  of  St.  Mark's  Place — the  termination  of  the 
most  noble  square  in  the  world — the  centre  of  the  most  noble 
city — its  purple  marbles  were,  in  the  winter  of  1849,  the  cus- 
tomary gambling  tables  of  the  idle  children  of  Venice ;  and 
the  parts  which  flank  the  Great  Entrance,  that  very  entrance 
where  "  Barbarossa  flung  his  mantle  off,"  were  the  counters 
of  a  common  bazaar  for  children's  toys,  carts,  dolls,  and  small 
pewter  spoons  and  dishes,  German  caricatures  and  books  of 
the  Opera,  mixed  with  those  of  the  offices  of  religion  ;  the 
caricatures  being  fastened  with  twine  round  the  porphyry 
•hafta  of  the  church.  One  Sunday,  the  24th  of  February, 


APPENDIX.  429 

1850,  the  book-stall  being  somewhat  more  richly  laid  out  than 
usual,  I  noted  down  the  titles  of  a  few  of  the  books  in  the 
order  in  which  they  lay,  and  I  give  them  below.  The  irony 
conveyed  by  the  juxtaposition  of  the  three  in  Italics  appears 
too  shrewd  to  be  accidental ;  but  the  fact  was  actually  so. 

Along  the  edge  of  the  white  plinth  were  a  row  of  two  kinds 
of  books, 

Officium  Beatse  Virg.  M.  ;  and  Officium  Hebdomadsa 
sanctse,  juxta  Formam  Missalis  et  Breviarii  Bomani 
sub  Urbano  VHL  correcti. 
Behind  these  lay,  side  by  side,  the  following : 

Don  Desiderio.     Dramma  Giocoso  per  Musica. 
Breve  Esposizione  della  Carattere  di  vera  Religions. 
On  the  top  of  this  latter,  keeping  its  leaves  open, 

La  Figlia  del  Reggimento.     Melodramma  comica. 
Carteggio  di  Madama  la  Marchesa  di  Pompadour,  ossia 

raccolta  di  Lettere  scritte  della  Medesima. 
Istruzioni  di  morale  Gondotta  per  le  Mglie. 
Francesca  di  Rimini.     Dramma  per  Musica. 
Then,  a  little  farther  on,  after  a  mass  of  plays  : — 

Orazioni  a  Gesu  Nazareno  e  a  Maria  addolorata. 
Semiramide  ;  Melodramma  tragico  da  rappresentarsi 

nel  Gran  Teatro  il  Fenice. 

Modo  di  orare  per  1'Acquisto  del  S.  Giubileo,  conce- 
duto  a  tutto  il  Mondo  Cattolico  da  S.  S.  Gregorio 
XVL 
Le  due  illustre  Rivali,  Melodramma  in  Tre  Atti,  da 

rappresent  arsi  nel  nuova  Gran  Teatro  il  Fenice. 
II  Cristiano  secondo  il  Cuore  di  Gesu,  per  la  Pratica 

delle  sue  Virtu. 

Traduzione  del'  Idioma  Italians. 
La  chiava  Chinese  ;  Commedia  del  Sig.  Abate  Pietro 

Chiari. 

La  Pelarina  ;  Intermezzo  de  Tre  Parti  per  Musica. 
n  Cavaliero  e  la  Dama  ;  Commedia  in  Tre  Atti  in 

Prosa. 

I  leave  these  facts  without  comment.     But  this  being  the 
last  piece  of  Appendix  I  have  to  add  to  the  present  volume,  I 


480  THE  STONES  OF   VENICE. 

would  desire  to  close  its  pages  with  a  question  to  my  readeifl 
— a  statistical  question,  which,  I  doubt  not,  is  being  accurately 
determined  for  us  all  elsewhere,  and  which,  therefore,  it  seeme 
to  me,  our  time  would  not  be  wasted  in  determining  for  our- 
selvea 

There  has  now  been  peace  between  England  and  the  conti 
nental  powers  about  thirty-five  years,  and  during  that  period 
the  English  have  visited  the  continent  at  the  rate  of  many 
thousands  a  year,  staying  there,  I  suppose,  on  the  average, 
each  two  or  three  months  ;  nor  these  an  inferior  kind  of  Eng- 
lish, but  the  kind  which  ought  to  be  the  best — the  noblest 
born,  the  best  taught,  the  richest  in  time  and  money,  having 
more  leisure,  knowledge,  and  power  than  any  other  portion  ol 
the  nation.  These,  we  might  suppose,  beholding,  as  they 
travelled,  the  condition  of  the  states  in  which  the  Papal  relig- 
ion is  professed,  and  being,  at  the  same  time,  the  most  en- 
lightened section  of  a  great  Protestant  nation,  would  have 
been  animated  with  some  desire  to  dissipate  the  Romanist 
errors,  and  to  communicate  to  others  the  better  knowledge 
which  they  possessed  themselves.  I  doubt  not  but  that  He 
who  gave  peace  upon  the  earth,  and  gave  it  by  the  hand  of 
England,  expected  thin;  much  of  her,  and  has  watched  every 
one  of  the  millions  of  her  travellers  as  they  crossed  the  sea, 
and  kept  count  for  him  of  his  travelling  expenses,  and  of  their 
distribution,  in  a  manner  of  which  neither  the  traveller  nor  his 
courier  were  at  all  informed.  I  doubt  not,  I  say,  but  that 
such  accounts  have  been  literally  kept  for  all  of  us,  and  that  a 
day  will  come  when  they  will  be  made  clearly  legible  to  us, 
and  when  we  shall  see  added  together,  on  one  side  of  the  ac- 
count book,  a  great  sum,  the  certain  portion,  whatever  it  may 
be,  of  this  thirty-five  years'  spendings  of  the  rich  English,  ac- 
counted for  in  this  manner  : — 

To  wooden  spoons,  nut-crackers,  and  jewellery,  bought  at 
Geneva,  and  elsewhere  among  the  Alps,  so  much  ;  to  shell 
cameos  and  bits  of  mosaic  bought  at  Rome,  so  much  ;  to  coral 
horns  and  lava  brooches  bought  at  Naples,  so  much  ;  to  glass 
beads  at  Venice,  and  gold  filigree  at  Genoa,  so  much  ;  to  pict- 
ures, and  statues,  and  ornaments,  everywhere,  so  much  ;  to 


APPENDIX.  431 

avant-coariera  and  extra  post-horses,  for  show  and  magnifi- 
cence, so  much  ;  to  great  entertainments  and  good  places  for 
seeing  sights,  so  much  ;  to  ball-dresses  and  general  vanities, 
80  much.  This,  I  say,  will  be  the  sum  on  one  side  of  the 
laook  ;  and  on  the  other  will  be  written, 

To  the  struggling  Protestant  Churches  of  France,  Switzer- 
land, and  Piedmont,  so  much. 

Had  we  not  better  do  this  piece  of  statistics  for  ourselves 
'•»  time  ¥ 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


<TJl30SY 


V/saiMNd 


^ 


'%13AIN(H\\V 


iiFO%        ^OF-CAIIFO/?^ 

<->      \     S  S±     (\      /^9\     C 

™"^         •     :j^i  *-*-*     ^^^^^^^^ 


aOS-ANCElfj> 


